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Edited by
Andrew Lang
Dedicated
to
Diana Scott Lang
Preface
The stories in this Fairy Book come from all quarters of the
world. For example, the adventures of 'Ball-Carrier and the Bad
One' are told by Red Indian grandmothers to Red Indian children
who never go to school, nor see pen and ink. 'The Bunyip' is
known to even more uneducated little ones, running about with no
clothes at all in the bush, in Australia. You may see
photographs of these merry little black fellows before their
troubles begin, in 'Northern Races of Central Australia,' by
Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. They have no lessons except in
tracking and catching birds, beasts, fishes, lizards, and snakes,
all of which they eat. But when they grow up to be big boys and
girls, they are cruelly cut about with stone knives and
frightened with sham bogies all for their good' their parents
say and I think they would rather go to school, if they had their
choice, and take their chance of being birched and bullied.
However, many boys might think it better fun to begin to learn
hunting as soon as they can walk. Other stories, like 'The
Sacred Milk of Koumongoe,' come from the Kaffirs in Africa, whose
dear papas are not so poor as those in Australia, but have plenty
of cattle and milk, and good mealies to eat, and live in houses
like very big bee-hives, and wear clothes of a sort, though not
very like our own. 'Pivi and Kabo' is a tale from the brown
people in the island of New Caledonia, where a boy is never
allowed to speak to or even look at his own sisters; nobody knows
why, so curious are the manners of this remote island. The story
shows the advantages of good manners and pleasant behaviour; and
the natives do not now cook and eat each other, but live on fish,
vegetables, pork, and chickens, and dwell in houses. 'What the
Rose did to the Cypress,' is a story from Persia, where the
people, of course, are civilised, and much like those of whom you
read in 'The Arabian Nights.' Then there are tales like 'The Fox
and the Lapp ' from the very north of Europe, where it is dark
for half the year and day-light for the other half. The Lapps
are a people not fond of soap and water, and very much given to
art magic. Then there are tales from India, told to Major
Campbell, who wrote them out, by Hindoos; these stories are 'Wali
Dad the Simple-hearted,' and 'The King who would be Stronger than
Fate,' but was not so clever as his daughter. From Brazil, in
South America, comes 'The Tortoise and the Mischievous Monkey,'
with the adventures of other animals. Other tales are told in
various parts of Europe, and in many languages; but all people,
black, white, brown, red, and yellow, are like each other when
they tell stories; for these are meant for children, who like the
same sort of thing, whether they go to school and wear clothes,
or, on the other hand, wear skins of beasts, or even nothing at
all, and live on grubs and lizards and hawks and crows and
serpents, like the little Australian blacks.
The tale of 'What the Rose did to the Cypress,' is translated out
of a Persian manuscript by Mrs. Beveridge. 'Pivi and Kabo' is
translated by the Editor from a French version; 'Asmund and
Signy' by Miss Blackley; the Indian stories by Major Campbell,
and all the rest are told by Mrs. Lang, who does not give them
exactly as they are told by all sorts of outlandish natives, but
makes them up in the hope white people will like them, skipping
the pieces which they will not like. That is how this Fairy Book
was made up for your entertainment.
Contents
'O good youth! how did you come here? Who are you? Where do you
come from?'
To this the faqir replied: 'O youth! it would be best for you to
have nothing to do with me and to know nothing of my fortunes,
for my story is fit neither for telling nor for hearing.' The
prince, however, pleaded so hard to be told, that at last there
was nothing to be done but to let him hear.
'Now, when my son heard this tale, he fell in love with that
unseen girl, and he came to me lamenting and bewailing himself.
Nothing that I could say had the slightest effect on him. I
said: "Oh my son! if there must be fruit of this fancy of yours,
I will lead forth a great army against King Quimus. If he will
give you his daughter freely, well and good; and if not, I will
ravage his kingdom and bring her away by force." This plan did
not please him; he said: "It is not right to lay a kingdom waste
and to destroy a palace so that I may attain my desire. I will
go alone; I will answer the riddle, and win her in this way." At
last, out of pity for him, I let him go. He reached the city of
King Quimus. He was asked the riddle and could not give the true
answer; and his head was cut off and hung upon the battlements.
Then I mourned him in black raiment for forty days.
After this another and another of my sons were seized by the same
desire, and in the end all my seven sons went, and all were
killed. In grief for their death I have abandoned my throne, and
I abide here in this desert, withholding my hand from all State
business and wearing myself away in sorrow.'
Prince Tahmasp listened to this tale, and then the arrow of love
for that unseen girl struck his heart also. Just at this moment
of his ill-fate his people came up, and gathered round him like
moths round a light. They brought him a horse, fleet as the
breeze of the dawn; he set his willing foot in the stirrup of
safety and rode off. As the days went by the thorn of love
rankled in his heart, and he became the very example of lovers,
and grew faint and feeble. At last his confidants searched his
heart and lifted the veil from the face of his love, and then set
the matter before his father, King Saman-lal-posh. 'Your son,
Prince Tahmasp, loves distractedly the Princess Mihr-afruz,
daughter of King Quimus, son of Timus.' Then they told the king
all about her and her doings. A mist of sadness clouded the
king's mind, and he said to his son: 'If this thing is so, I will
in the first place send a courier with friendly letters to King
Quimus, and will ask the hand of his daughter for you. I will
send an abundance of gifts, and a string of camels laden with
flashing stones and rubies of Badakhsham In this way I will bring
her and her suite, and I will give her to you to be your solace.
But if King Quimus is unwilling to give her to you, I will pour a
whirlwind of soldiers upon him, and I will bring to you, in this
way, that most consequential of girls.' But the prince said that
this plan would not be right, and that he would go himself, and
would answer the riddle. Then the king's wise men said: 'This is
a very weighty matter; it would be best to allow the prince to
set out accompanied by some persons in whom you have confidence.
Maybe he will repent and come back.' So King Saman ordered all
preparations for the journey to be made, and then Prince Tahmasp
took his leave and set out, accompanied by some of the courtiers,
and taking with him a string of two-humped and raven-eyed camels
laden with jewels, and gold, and costly stuffs.
When the king saw how very young the prince looked, and that he
was still drinking of the fountain of wonder, he said: 'O youth!
leave aside this fancy which my daughter has conceived in the
pride of her beauty. No one can answer er her riddle, and she
has done to death many men who had had no pleasure in life nor
tasted its charms. God forbid that your spring also should be
ravaged by the autumn winds of martyrdom.' All his urgency,
however, had no effect in making the prince withdraw. At length
it was settled between them that three days should be given to
pleasant hospitality and that then should follow what had to be
said and done. Then the prince went to his own quarters and was
treated as became his station.
King Quimus now sent for his daughter and for her mother,
Gulrukh,[FN#6] and talked to them. He said to Mibrafruz: '
Listen to me, you cruel flirt! Why do you persist in this folly?
Now there has come to ask your hand a prince of the east, so
handsome that the very sun grows modest before the splendour of
his face; he is rich, and he has brought gold and jewels, all for
you, if you will marry him. A better husband you will not find.'
But all the arguments of father and mother were wasted, for her
only answer was: 'O my father! I have sworn to myself that I
will not marry, even if a thousand years go by, unless someone
answers my riddle, and that I will give myself to that man only
who does answer it.'
The three days passed; then the riddle was asked: 'What did the
rose do to the cypress?' The prince had an eloquent tongue,
which could split a hair, and without hesitation he replied to
her with a verse: 'Only the Omnipotent has knowledge of secrets;
if any man says, " I know " do not believe him.'
The news of the death of Prince Tahmasp plunged his father into
despair and stupefaction. He mourned for him in black raiment
for forty days; and then, a few days later, his second son,
Prince Qamas, extracted from him leave to go too; and he, also,
was put to death. One son only now remained, the brave,
eloquent, happy-natured Prince Almas-ruh-bakhsh. One day, when
his father sat brooding over his lost children, Almas came before
him and said: 'O father mine! the daughter of King Quimus has
done my two brothers to death; I wish to avenge them upon her.'
These words brought his father to tears. 'O light of your
father! ' he cried, 'I have no one left but you, and now you ask
me to let you go to your death.'
In the end he, too, got leave to go; but he went a without a
following and alone. Like his brothers, he made the long journey
to the city of Quimus the son of Timus; like them he saw the
citadel, but he saw there the heads of Tahmasp and Qamas. He
went about in the city, saw the tent and the drums, and then went
out again to a village not far off. Here he found out a very old
man who had a wife 120 years old, or rather more. Their lives
were coming to their end, but they had never beheld face of child
of their own. They were glad when the prince came to their
house, and they dealt with him as with a son. He put all his
belongings into their charge, and fastened his horse in their
out-house. Then he asked them not to speak of him to anyone, and
to keep his affairs secret. He exchanged his royal dress for
another, and next morning, just as the sun looked forth from its
eastern oratory, he went again into the city. He turned over in
his mind without ceasing how he was to find out the meaning of
the riddle, and to give them a right answer, and who could help
him, and how to avenge his brothers. He wandered about the city,
but heard nothing of service, for there was no one in all that
land who understood the riddle of Princess Mihr-afruz.
'O princess! I went for water, and I saw an image, and I was
afraid.' So another girl went to the water and saw the same
thing, and came back with the same story. The princess wished to
see for herself; she rose and paced to the spot with the march of
a prancing peacock. When she saw the image she said to her
nurse: 'Find out who is reflected in the water, and where he
lives.' Her words reached the prince's ear, he lifted up his
head; she saw him and beheld beauty such as she had never seen
before. She lost a hundred hearts to him, and signed to her
nurse to bring him to her presence. The prince let himself be
persuaded to go with the nurse, but when the princess questioned
him as to who he was and how he had got into her garden, he
behaved like a man out of his mind--sometimes smiling, sometimes
crying, and saying: ' I am hungry,'Or words misplaced and random,
civil mixed with the rude.
'What a pity!' said the princess, 'he is mad!' As she liked him
she said: 'He is my madman; let no one hurt him.' She took him
to her house and told him not to go away, for that she would
provide for all his wants. The prince thought, 'It would be
excellent if here, in her very house, I could get the answer to
her riddle; but I must be silent, on pain of death.'
He fell into long and far thought, and Dil-aram looked at him and
said: 'O my life and my soul! do not be sad. If you would like
this woman killed, I will put poison into her cup so that she
will never lift her head from her drugged sleep again.'
The prince now went back to the village, and told the old man
that he was setting out on a long journey, and begged him not to
be anxious, and to keep safe the goods which had been entrusted
to him.
The prince had not the least knowledge of the way to Waq of the
Caucasus, and was cast down by the sense of his helplessness. He
was walking along by his horse's side when there appeared before
him an old man of serene countenance, dressed in green and
carrying a staff, who resembled Khizr.[FN#8] The prince thanked
heaven, laid the hands of reverence on his breast and salaamed.
The old man returned the greeting graciously, and asked: 'How
fare you? Whither are you bound? You look like a traveller.'
'O revered saint! I am in this difficulty: I do not know the way
to Waq of the Caucasus.' The old man of good counsel looked at
the young prince and said: 'Turn back from this dangerous
undertaking. Do not go; choose some other task! If you had a
hundred lives you would not bring one out safe from this
journey.' But his words had no effect on the prince's resolve.
'What object have you,' the old man asked, 'in thus consuming
your life?'
When the saint saw that the prince was not to be moved, he said:
' Learn and know, O youth! that Waq of Qaf is in the Caucasus and
is a dependency of it. In it there are jins, demons, and peris.
You must go on along this road till it forks into three; take
neither the right hand nor the left, but the middle path. Follow
this for a day and a night. Then you will come to a column on
which is a marble slab inscribed with Cufic characters. Do what
is written there; beware of disobedience.' Then he gave his good
wishes for the journey and his blessing, and the prince kissed
his [Bet, said good-bye, and, with thanks to the Causer of
Causes, took the road.
After a day and a night he saw the column rise in silent beauty
to the heavens. Everything was as the wise old man had said it
would be, and the prince, who was skilled in all tongues, read
the following Cufic inscription: 'O travellers! be it known to
you that this column has been set up with its tablet to give true
directions about these roads. If a man would pass his life in
ease and pleasantness, let him take the right-hand path. If he
take the left, he will have some trouble, but he will reach his
goal without much delay. Woe to him who chooses the middle path!
if he had a thousand lives he would not save one; it is very
hazardous; it leads to the Caucasus, and is an endless road.
Beware of it!'
The prince read and bared his head and lifted his hands in
supplication to Him who has no needs, and prayed, 'O Friend of
the traveller! I, Thy servant, come to Thee for succour. My
purpose lies in the land of Qaf and my road is full of peril.
Lead me by it.' Then he took a handful of earth and cast it on
his collar, and said: 'O earth! be thou my grave; and O vest! tee
thou my winding-sheet!' Then he took the middle road and went
along it, day after day, with many a silent prayer, till he saw
trees rise from the weary waste of sand. They grew in a garden,
and he went up to the gate and found it a slab of beautifully
worked marble, and that near it there lay sleeping, with his head
on a stone, a negro whose face was so black that it made darkness
round him. His upper lip, arched like an eyebrow, curved upwards
to his nostrils and his lower hung down like a camel's. Four
millstones formed his shield, and on a box- tree close by hung
his giant sword. His loin-cloth was fashioned of twelve skins of
beasts, and was bound round his waist by a chain of which each
link was as big as an elephant's thigh.
The prince approached and tied up his horse near the negro's
head. Then he let fall the Bismillah from his lips, entered the
garden and walked through it till he came to the private part,
delighting in the great trees, the lovely verdure, and the
flowery borders. In the inner garden there were very many deer.
These signed to him with eye and foot to go back, for that this
was enchanted ground; but he did not understand them, and thought
their pretty gestures were a welcome. After a while he reached a
palace which had a porch more splendid than Caesar's, and was
built of gold and silver bricks. In its midst was a high seat,
overlaid with fine carpets, and into it opened eight doors, each
having opposite to it a marble basin.
'O Lady Latifa,' he said, 'I have made a compact with heaven not
to sit down off my feet till I have been to Waq of Qaf and have
cleared up this matter, and have taken Mihr- afruz from her
father, as brave men take, and have put her in prison. When I
have done all this I will come back to you in state and with a
great following, and I will marry you according to the law.'
Lady Latifa argued and urged her wishes, but in vain; the prince
was not to be moved. Then she called to the cupbearers for new
wine, for she thought that when his head was hot with it he might
consent to stay. The pure, clear wine was brought; she filled a
cup and gave to him. He said: 'O most enchanting sweetheart! it
is the rule for the host to drink first and then the guest.' So
to make him lose his head, she drained the cup; then filled it
again and gave him. He drank it off, and she took a lute from
one of the singers and played upon it with skill which witched
away the sense of all who heard. But it was all in vain; three
days passed in such festivities, and on the fourth the prince
said: 'O joy of my eyes! I beg now that you will bid me farewell,
for my way is long and the fire of your love darts flame into the
harvest of my heart. By heaven's grace I may accomplish my
purpose, and, if so, I will come back to you.'
Now she saw that she could not in any way change his resolve, she
told her nurse to bring a certain casket which contained, she
said, something exhilarating which would help the prince on his
journey. The box was brought, and she divided off a portion of
what was within and gave it to the prince to eat. Then, and
while he was all unaware, she put forth her hand to a stick
fashioned like a snake; she said some words over it and struck
him so sharply on the shoulder that he cried out; then he made a
pirouette and found that he was a deer.
When he knew what had been done to him he thought, 'All the
threads of affliction are gathered together; I have lost my last
chance!' He tried to escape, but the magician sent for her
goldsmith, who, coming, overlaid the deer-horns with gold and
jewels. The kerchief which that day she had had in her hand was
then tied round its neck, and this freed it from her attentions.
The prince-deer now bounded into the garden and at once sought
some way of escape. It found none, and it joined the other deer,
which soon made it their leader. Now, although the prince had
been transformed into the form of a deer, he kept his man's heart
and mind. He said to himself, 'Thank heaven that the Lady Latifa
has changed me into this shape, for at least deer are beautiful.'
He remained for some time living as a deer amongst the rest, but
at length resolved that an end to such a life must be put ill
some way. He looked again for some place by which he could get
out of the magic garden. Following round the wall he reached a
lower part; he remembered the Divine Names and flung himself
over, saying, 'Whatever happens is by the will of God.' When he
looked about he found that he was in the very same place he had
jumped from; there was the palace, there the garden and the deer!
Eight times he leaped over the wall and eight times found himself
where he had started from; but after the ninth leap there was a
change, there was a palace and there was a garden, but the deer
were gone.
The broidered kerchief and the jewels lay upon the ground. The
prince prostrated himself in thanks to heaven and Jamila, and
said: 'O delicious person! O Chinese Venus! how shall I excuse
myself for giving you so much trouble? With what words can I
thank you?' Then she called for a clothes-wallet and chose out a
royal dress of honour. Her attendants dressed him in it, and
brought him again before the tender-hearted lady. She turned to
him a hundred hearts, took his hand and seated him beside her,
and said: 'O youth! tell me truly who you are and where you come
from, and how you fell into the power of my sister.'
Even when he was a deer the prince had much admired Jamila now he
thought her a thousand times more lovely than before. He judged
that in truth alone was safety, and so told her his whole story.
Then she asked: 'O Prince Almas-ruh-bakhsh, do you still wish so
much to make this journey to Waq of Qaf? What hope is there in
it? The road is dangerous even near here, and this is not yet
the borderland of the Caucasus. Come, give it up! It is a great
risk, and to go is not wise. It would be a pity for a man like
you to fall into the hands of jins and demons. Stay with me, and
I will do whatever you wish.'
'O very stuff of my life,' replied Jamila 'I will give you things
that are not in kings' treasuries, and which will be of the
greatest use to you. First, there are the bow and arrows of his
Reverence the Prophet Salih. Secondly, there is the Scorpion of
Solomon (on whom be peace), which is a sword such as no king has;
steel and stone are one to it; if you bring it down on a rock it
will not be injured, and it will cleave whatever you strike.
Thirdly, there is the dagger which the sage Timus himself made;
this is most useful, and the man who wears it would not bend
under seven camels' loads. What you have to do first is to get
to the home of the Simurgh,[FN#10] and to make friends with him.
If he favours you, he will take you to Waq of Qaf; if not, you
will never get there, for seven seas are on the way, and they are
such seas that if all the kings of the earth, and all their
wazirs, and all their wise men considered for a thousand years,
they would not be able to cross them.'
'O most delicious person! where is the Simurgh's home? How shall
I get there?'
'O new fruit of life! you must just do what I tell you, and you
must use your eyes and your brains, for if you don't you will
find yourself at the place of the negroes, who are a bloodthirsty
set; and God forbid they should lay hands on your precious
person.'
Then she took the bow and quiver of arrows, the sword, and the
dagger out of a box, and the prince let fall a Bismillah, and
girt them all on. Then Jamila of the houri-face, produced two
saddle-bags of ruby-red silk, one filled with roasted fowl and
little cakes, and the other with stones of price. Next she gave
him a horse as swift as the breeze of the morning, and she said:
' Accept all these things from me; ride till you come to a rising
ground, at no great distance from here, where there is a spring.
It is called the Place of Gifts, and you must stay there one
night. There you will see many wild beasts--lions, tigers,
leopards, apes, and so on. Before you get there you must capture
some game. On the long road beyond there dwells a lion-king,
alla if other beasts did not fear him they would ravage the whole
country and let no one pass. The lion is a red transgressor, so
when he comes rise and do him reverence; take a cloth and rub the
dust and earth from his face, then set the game you have taken
before him, well cleansed, and lay the hands of respect on your
breast. When he wishes to eat, take your knife and cut pieces of
the meat and set them before him with a bow. In this way you
will enfold that lion-king in perfect friendship, and he will be
most useful to you, and you will be safe from molestation by the
negroes. When you go on from the Place of Gifts, be sure you do
not take the right-hand road; take the left, for the other leads
by the negro castle, which is known as the Place of Clashing
Swords, and where there are forty negro captains each over three
thousand or four thousand more. Their chief is Taramtaq.[FN#11]
Further on than this is the home of the Simurgh.'
Having stored these things in the prince's memory, she said: 'You
will see everything happen just as I have said.' Then she
escorted him a little way; they parted, and she went home to
mourn his absence.
There was water close at hand, and the prince made his ablution,
and then said: 'O my heart! a wonderful task lies upon you.' A
second negro came out of the fort, and seeing what had been done,
went back and told his chief. Others wished to be doubled, and
went out, and of every one the Scorpion of Solomon made two.
Then Taram-taq sent for a giant negro named Chil-maq, who in the
day of battle was worth three hundred, and said to him: 'I shall
thank you to fetch me that man.'
Taram-taq was left alone; he would have retired into his fort,
but the prince shouted: 'Whither away, accursed one? Are you
fleeing before me?' At these defiant words the chief shouted
back, 'Welcome, man! Come here and I will soften you to wax
beneath my club.' Then he hurled his club at the prince's head,
but it fell harmless because the prince had quickly spurred his
horse forward. The chief, believing he had hit him, was looking
down for him, when all at once he came up behind and cleft him to
the waist and sent him straight to hell.
The nest of the Simurgh was in the wonderful tree above him, and
in it were young birds; the parents were away searching for food.
They always told the children, before they left them, not to put
their heads out of the nest; but, to-day, at the noise of the
fight below, they looked down and so saw the whole affair. By
the time the dragon had been killed they were very hungry and set
up a clamour for food. The prince therefore cut up the dragon
and fed them with it, bit by bit, till they had eaten the whole.
He then washed himself and lay down to rest, and he was still
asleep when the Simurgh came home. As a rule, the young birds
raised a clamour of welcome when their parents came near, but on
this day they were so full of dragon-meat that they had no
choice, they had to go to sleep.
As they flew nearer, the old birds saw the prince lying under the
tree and no sign of life in the nest. They thought that the
misfortune which for so many earlier years had befallen them had
again happened and that their nestlings had disappeared. They
had never been able to find out the murderer, and now suspected
the prince. ' He has eaten our children and sleeps after it; he
must die,' said the father-bird, and flew back to the hills and
clawed up a huge stone which he meant to let fall on the prince's
head. But his mate said, 'Let us look into the nest first for to
kill an innocent person would condemn us at the Day of
Resurrection.' They flew nearer, and presently the young birds
woke and cried, 'Mother, what have you brought for us?' and they
told the whole story of the fight, and of how they were alive
only by the favour of the young man under the tree, and of his
cutting up the dragon and of their eating it. The mother-bird
then remarked, 'Truly, father! you were about to do a strange
thing, and a terrible sin has been averted from you.' Then the
Simurgh flew off to a distance with the great stone and dropped
it. It sank down to the very middle of the earth.
Coming back, the Simurgh saw that a little sunshine fell upon the
prince through the leaves, and it spread its wings and shaded him
till he woke. When he got up he salaamed to it, who returned his
greeting with joy and gratitude, and caressed him and said: 'O
youth, tell me true! who are you, and where are you going? And
how did you cross that pitiless desert where never yet foot of
man had trod?' The prince told his story from beginning to end,
and finished by saying: 'Now it is my heart's wish that you
should help me to get to Waq of the Caucasus. Perhaps, by your
favour, I shall accomplish my task and avenge my brothers.' In
reply the Simurgh.' first blessed the deliverer of his children,
and then went on: ' What you have done no child of man has ever
done before; you assuredly have a claim on all my help, for every
year up till now that dragon has come here and has destroyed my
nestlings, and I have never been able to find who was the
murderer and to avenge myself. By God's grace you have removed
my children's powerful foe. I regard you as a child of my own.
Stay with me; I will give you everything you desire, and I will
establish a city here for you, and will furnish it with every
requisite; I will give you the land of the Caucasus, and will
make its princes subject to you. Give up the journey to Waq, it
is full of risk, and the jins there will certainly kill you.'
But nothing could move the prince, and seeing this the bird went
on: 'Well, so be it! When you wish to set forth you must go into
the plain and take seven head of deer, and must make water-tight
bags of their hides and keep their flesh in seven portions.
Seven seas lie on our way-- I will carry you over them; but if I
have not food and drink we shall fall into the sea and be
drowned. When I ask for it you must put food and water into my
mouth. So we shall make the journey safely.'
The prince did all as he was told, then they took flight; they
crossed the seven seas, and at each one the prince fed the
Simurgh When they alighted on the shore of the last sea, it said:
'O my son! there lies your road; follow it to the city. Take
thee three feathers of mine, and, if you are in a difficulty,
burn one and I will be with you in the twinkling of an eye.'
Now the Simurgh had given the prince a diamond weighing thirty
misqals, and he ordered this to the king, who at once recognised
its value, and asked where it had been obtained. 'I, your slave,
once had riches and state and power; there are many such stones
in my country. On my way here I was plundered at the Castle of
Clashing Swords, and I saved this one thing only, hidden in my
bathing-cloth.' In return for the diamond, King Sinaubar
showered gifts of much greater value, for he remembered that it
was the last possession of the prince. He showed the utmost
kindness and hospitality, and gave his wazir orders to instal the
prince in the royal guest-house. He took much pleasure in his
visitor's society; they were together every day and spent the
time most pleasantly. Several times the king said: 'Ask me for
something, that I may give it you.'One day he so pressed to know
what would pleasure the prince, that the latter said: 'I have
only one wish, and that I will name to you in private.' The king
at once commanded every one to withdraw, and then Prince Almas
said: ' The desire of my life is to know what the rose did to the
cypress, and what meaning there is in the words.' The king was
astounded. 'In God's name! if anyone else had said that to me I
should have cut off his head instantly.' The prince heard this
in silence, and presently so beguiled the king with pleasant talk
that to kill him was impossible.
Time flew by, the king again and again begged the prince to ask
some gift of him, and always received this same reply: 'I wish
for your Majesty's welfare, what more can I desire?'One night
there was a banquet, and cupbearers carried round gold and silver
cups of sparkling wine, and singers with sweetest voices
contended for the prize. The prince drank from the king's own
cup, and when his head was hot with wine he took a lute from one
of the musicians and placed himself on the carpet border and sang
and sang till he witched away the sense of all who listened.
Applause and compliments rang from every side. The king filled
his cup and called the prince and gave it him and said: 'Name
your wish! it is yours.' The prince drained off the wine and
answered: 'O king of the world! learn and know that I have only
one aim in life, and this is to know what the rose did to the
cypress.'
'Never yet,' replied the king, 'has any man come out from that
question alive. If this is your only wish, so be it; I will tell
you. But I will do this on one condition only, namely, that when
you have heard you will submit yourself to death.' To this the
prince agreed, and said: ' I set my foot firmly on this compact.'
'Now,' said the king, ' you have seen these things and your
purpose is fulfilled.' 'Truly,' said the prince, 'I have seen
things which I have not understood; what do they mean, and what
is the story of them? Tell me and kill me.'
Then said the king: 'The woman you see there in chains is my
wife; she is called Gul, the Rose, and I am Sinaubar, the
Cypress. One day I was hunting and became very thirsty. After
great search I discovered a well in a place so secret that
neither bird nor beast nor man could find it without labour. I
was alone, I took my turban for a rope and my cap for a bucket.
There was a good deal of water, but when I let down my rope,
something caught it, and I could not in any way draw it back. I
shouted down into the well: "O! servant of God! whoever you are,
why do you deal unfairly with me? I am dying of thirst, let go!
in God's name." A cry came up in answer, "O servant of God! we
have been in the well a long time; in God's name get us out!"
After trying a thousand schemes, I drew up two blind women. They
said they were peris, and that their king had blinded them in his
anger and had left them in the well alone.
' "Now," they said, "if you will get us the cure for our
blindness we will devote ourselves to your service, and will do
whatever you wish."
' "Not far from this place," they said, "a cow comes up from the
great sea to graze; a little of her dung would cure us. We
should be eternally your debtors. Do not let the cow see you, or
she will assuredly kill you."
'They thanked heaven and me, and then considered what they could
do to show their gratitude to me. "Our peri-king," they said,
"has a daughter whom he keeps under his own eye and thinks the
most lovely girl on earth. In good sooth, she has not her equal!
Now we will get you into her house and you must win her heart,
and if she has an inclination for another, you must drive it out
and win her for yourself. Her mother loves her so dearly that
she has no ease but in her presence, and she will give her to no
one in marriage. Teach her to love you so that she cannot exist
without you. But if the matter becomes known to her mother she
will have you burned in the fire. Then you must beg, as a last
favour, that your body may be anointed with oil so that you may
burn the more quickly and be spared torture. If the peri-king
allows this favour, we two will manage to be your anointers, and
we will put an oil on you such that if you were a thousand years
in the fire not a trace of burning would remain."
'In the end the two peris. took me to the girl's house. I saw
her sleeping daintily. She was most lovely, and I was so amazed
at the perfection of her beauty that I stood with senses lost,
and did not know if she were real or a dream. When at last I saw
that she was a real girl, I returned thanks that I, the runner,
had come to my goal, and that I, the seeker, had found my
treasure.
'When the peri opened her eyes she asked in affright: "Who are
you? Have you come to steal? How did you get here? Be quick!
save yourself from this whirlpool of destruction, for the demons
and peris. who guard me will wake and seize you."
'But love's arrow had struck me deep, and the girl, too, looked
kindly on me. I could not go away. For some months I remained
hidden in her house. 'We did not dare to let her mother know of
our love. Sometimes the girl was very sad and fearful lest her
mother should come to know. One day her father said to her:
"Sweetheart, for some time I have noticed that your beauty is not
what it was. How is this? Has sickness touched you? Tell me
that I may seek a cure." Alas! there was now no way of concealing
the mingled delight and anguish of our love; from secret it
became known. I was put in prison and the world grew dark to my
rose, bereft of her lover.
'Peris who had seen Gul consumed by her love for me now
interceded with the king, and said: "It is clear that your
daughter's fortunes are bound up with his, for the fire has not
hurt him. It is best to give him the girl, for they love one
another. He is King of Waq of Qaf, and you will find none
better."
'To this the king agreed, and made formal marriage between Gul
and me. You now know the price I paid for this faithless
creature. O prince! remember our compact.'
'I remember,' said the prince; ' but tell me what brought Queen
Gul to her present pass?'
'When I came to the foot of those hills which lie outside the
city I saw Gul dismount and go towards a house which some negroes
have built there. Over against the door was a high seat, and on
it lay a giant negro, before whom she salaamed. He got up and
beat her till she was marked with weals, but she uttered no
complaint. I was dumfounded, for once when I had struck her with
a rose stalk she had complained and fretted for three days! Then
the negro said to her: " How now, ugly one and shaven head! Why
are you so late, and why are you not wearing wedding garments?"
She answered him: "That person did not go to sleep quickly, and
he stayed at home all day, so that I was not able to adorn
myself. I came as soon as I could." In a little while he called
her to sit beside him; but this was more than I could bear. I
lost control of myself and rushed upon him. He clutched my
collar and we grappled in a death struggle. Suddenly she came
behind me, caught my feet and threw me. While he held me on the
ground, she drew out my own knife and gave it to him. I should
have been killed but for that faithful dog which seized his
throat and pulled him down and pinned him to the ground. Then I
got up and despatched the wretch. There were four other negroes
at the place; three I killed and the fourth got away, and has
taken refuge beneath the throne of Mihr-afruz, daughter of King
Quimus. I took Gul back to my palace, and from that time till
now I have treated her as a dog is treated, and I have cared for
my dog as though it were my wife. Now you know what the rose did
to the cypress; and now you must keep compact with me.'
'I shall keep my word,' said the prince; 'but may a little water
be taken to the roof so that I may make my last ablution?'
Up and up flew the Simurgh, till earth looked like an egg resting
on an ocean. At length it dropped straight down to its own
place, where the kind prince was welcomed by the young birds and
most hospitably entertained. He told the whole story of the rose
and the cypress, and then, laden with gifts which the Simurgh had
gathered from cities far and near, he set his face for the Castle
of Clashing Swords. The king-lion came out to meet him; he took
the negro chief's daughter---whose name was also Gul--in lawful
marriage, and then marched with her and her possessions and her
attendants to the Place of Gifts. Here they halted for a night,
and at dawn said good-bye to the king-lion and set out for
Jamila's country.
When the Lady Jamila heard that Prince Almas was near, she went
out, with many a fair handmaid, to give him loving reception.
Their meeting was joyful, and they went together to the
garden-palace. Jamila summoned all her notables, and in their
presence her marriage with the prince was solemnised. A few days
later she entrusted her affairs to her wazir, and made
preparation to go with the prince to his own country. Before she
started she restored all the men whom her sister, Latifa, had
bewitched, to their own forms, and received their blessings, and
set them forward to their homes. The wicked Latifa herself she
left quite alone in her garden-house. When all was ready they
set out with all her servants and slaves, all her treasure and
goods, and journeyed at ease to the city of King Quimus.
The king entreated him to have nothing to do with the riddle, for
that no man had come out of it alive. 'O king!' replied the
prince, 'it is to answer it that I am here; I will not withdraw.'
Mihr-afruz was told that one man more had staked his head on her
question, and that this was one who said he knew the answer. At
the request of the prince, all the officers and notables of the
land were summoned to hear his reply to the princess. All
assembled, and the king and his queen Gul-rakh, and the girl and
the prince were there.
'You who are experienced men and versed in affairs, did you ever
know or hear and see anything of this matter?'
'No!' they answered, 'no one has ever known or heard or seen
aught about it; it is an empty fancy.'
'From whom, then, did the princess hear of it? This empty fancy
it is that has done many a servant of God to death!'
All saw the good sense of his words and showed their approval.
Then he turned to the princess: 'Tell us the truth, princess; who
told you of this thing? I know it hair by hair, and in and out;
but if I tell you what I know, who is there that can say I speak
the truth? You must produce the person who can confirm my
words.'
Her heart sank, for she feared that her long-kept secret was now
to be noised abroad. But she said merely: 'Explain yourself.'
'I shall explain myself fully when you bring here the negro whom
you hide beneath your throne.'
'That,' said the prince, 'you will see if you order to be brought
here the negro who will be found beneath the throne of the
princess.'
'O most amazingly impudent person,' cried he, 'do you not yet
repent?'
Then he turned to the people, and told them the whole story of
the rose and the cypress, of King Sinaubar and Queen Gul. When
he came to the killing of the negroes, he said to the one who
stood before them: 'You, too, were present.'
There was great rejoicing in the court and all through the
country over the solving of the riddle, and because now no more
kings and princes would be killed. King Quimus made over his
daughter to Prince Almas, but the latter refused to marry her,
and took her as his captive. He then asked that the heads should
be removed from the battlements and given decent burial. This
was done. He received from the king everything that belonged to
Mihr-afruz; her treasure of gold and silver; her costly stuffs
and carpets; her household plenishing; her horses and camels; her
servants and slaves.
Then he returned to his camp and sent for Dil-aram, who came
bringing her goods and chattels, her gold and her jewels. When
all was ready, Prince Almas set out for home, taking with him
Jamila, and Dil-aram and Gul, daughter of Taram-taq, and the
wicked Mihr-afruz, and all the belongings of the four, packed on
horses and camels, and in carts without number.
Mihr-afruz was brought before the king, and the prince said:
'This is the murderer of your sons; do with her as you will.'
The king fancied that the prince might care for the girl's
beauty, and replied: 'You have humbled her; do with her as you
will.'
Upon this the prince sent for four swift and strong horses, and
had the negro bound to each one of them; then each was driven to
one of the four quarters, and he tore in pieces like muslin.
Now has been told what the rose did to the cypress.
[FN#4] World-gripper.
[FN#5] Love-enkindler.
[FN#6] Rose-cheek.
[FN#7] Heartsease.
[FN#8] Elias.
[FN#9] Pleasure.
[FN#10] Thirty-birds.
Far, far in the forest there were two little huts, and in each of
them lived a man who was a famous hunter, his wife, and three or
four children. Now the children were forbidden to play more than
a short distance from the door, as it was known that, away on the
other side of the wood near the great river, there dwelt a witch
who had a magic ball that she used as a means of stealing
children.
Her plan was a very simple one, and had never yet failed. When
she wanted a child she just flung her ball in the direction of
the child's home, and however far off it might be, the ball was
sure to reach it. Then, as soon as the child saw it, the ball
would begin rolling slowly back to the witch, just keeping a
little ahead of the child, so that he always thought that he
could catch it the next minute. But he never did, and, what was
more, his parents never saw him again.
Of course you must not suppose that all the fathers and mothers
who had lost children made no attempts to find them, but the
forest was so large, and the witch was so cunning in knowing
exactly where they were going to search, that it was very easy
for her to keep out of the way. Besides, there was always the
chance that the children might have been eaten by wolves, of
which large herds roamed about in winter.
One day the old witch happened to want a little boy, so she threw
her ball in the direction of the hunters' huts. A child was
standing outside, shooting at a mark with his bow and arrows, but
the moment he saw the ball, which was made of glass whose blues
and greens and whites, all frosted over, kept changing one into
the other, he flung down his bow, and stooped to pick the ball
up. But as he did so it began to roll very gently downhill. The
boy could not let it roll away, when it was so close to him, so
he gave chase. The ball seemed always within his grasp, yet he
could never catch it; it went quicker and quicker, and the boy
grew more and more excited. That time he almost touched it--no,
he missed it by a hair's breadth! Now, surely, if he gave a
spring he could get in front of it! He sprang forward, tripped
and fell, and found himself in the witch's house!
'You will have to fast if you want the spirits to make you strong
and wise, and the sooner you begin the better.'
At the end of ten days the old woman came to him with a bowl of
the same food that he had eaten before.
'Get up, my grandson, you have fasted long enough. Have the good
spirits visited you, and granted you the strength and wisdom that
you desire?'
So the boy lay down again on the buffalo skins, and fasted for
ten days, and at the end of that time he turned his face to the
wall, and fasted for twenty days longer. At length the witch
called to him, and said:
'Not all, grandmother,' answered he; 'there are still some who
keep away from me and say that I have not fasted long enough.'
'Then you must fast again,' replied the old woman, 'and go on
fasting till you receive the gifts of all the good spirits. Not
one must be missing.'
The boy said nothing, but lay down for the third time on the
buffalo skins, and fasted for twenty days more. And at the end
of that time the witch thought he was dead, his face was so white
and his body so still. But when she had fed him out of the bowl
he grew stronger, and soon was able to sit up.
'You have fasted a long time,' said she, 'longer than anyone ever
fasted before. Surely the good spirits must be satisfied now?'
'Yes, grandmother,' answered the boy, 'they have all come, and
have given me their gifts.'
This pleased the old woman so much that she brought him another
basin of food, and while he was eating it she talked to him, and
this is what she said: 'Far away, on the other side of the great
river, is the home of the Bad One. In his house is much gold,
and what is more precious even than the gold, a little bridge,
which lengthens out when the Bad One waves his hand, so that
there is no river or sea that he cannot cross. Now I want that
bridge and some of the gold for myself, and that is the reason
that I have stolen so many boys by means of my ball. I have
tried to teach them how to gain the gifts of the good spirits,
but none of them would fast long enough, and at last I had to
send them away to perform simple, easy little tasks. But you
have been strong and faithful, and you can do this thing if you
listen to what I tell you! When you reach the river tie this ball
to your foot, and it will take you across--you cannot manage it
in any other way. But do not be afraid; trust to the ball, and
you will be quite safe!'
The boy took the ball and put it in a bag. Then he made himself
a club and a bow, and some arrows which would fly further than
anyone else's arrows, because of the strength the good spirits
had given him. They had also bestowed on him the power of
changing his shape, and had increased the quickness of his eyes
and ears so that nothing escaped him. And in some way or other
they made him understand that if he needed more help they would
give it to him.
When all these things were ready the boy bade farewell to the
witch and set out. He walked through the forest for several days
without seeing anyone but his friends the squirrels and the bears
and the birds, but though he stopped and spoke to them all, he
was careful not to let them know where he was going.
Once there he replaced the ball in the bag, and looked carefully
round him. The door of the Bad One's hut was open, and he saw
that the ceiling was supported by great wooden beams, from which
hung the bags of gold and the little bridge. He saw, too, the
Bad One sitting in the midst of his treasures eating his dinner,
and drinking something out of a horn. It was plain to the boy
that he must invent some plan of getting the Bad One out of the
way, or else he would never be able to steal the gold or the
bridge.
Directly the door had closed on the Bad One the boy ran in,
pulled down a bag of gold from the beam, and tucked it under his
left arm. Next he unhooked the little bridge and put it under
his right. He did not try to escape, as most boys of his age
would have done, for the wisdom put into his mind by the good
spirits taught him that before he could reach the river and make
use of the bridge the Bad One would have tracked him by his
footsteps and been upon him. So, making himself very small and
thin, he hid himself behind a pile of buffalo skins in the
corner, first tearing a slit through one of them, so that he
could see what was going on.
He had hardly settled himself when the servant entered the room,
and, as she did so, the last bag of gold on the beam fell to the
ground--for they had begun to fall directly the boy had taken the
first one. She cried to her master that someone had stolen both
the bag and the bridge, and the Bad One rushed in, mad with
anger, and bade her go and seek for footsteps outside, that they
might find out where the thief had gone. In a few minutes she
returned, saying that he must be in the house, as she could not
see any footsteps leading to the river, and began to move all the
furniture in the room, without discovering Ball Carrier.
'But he must be here somewhere,' she said to herself, examining
for the second time the pile of buffalo skins; and Ball-Carrier,
knowing that he could not possibly escape now, hastily wished
that the Bad One should be unable to eat any more food at
present.
'Ah, there is a slit in this one,' cried the servant, shaking the
skin; 'and here he is.' And she pulled out Ball-Carrier, looking
so lean and small that he would hardly have made a mouthful for a
sparrow.
'Was it you who took my gold and bridge?' asked the Bad One.
The Bad One made a sign to the woman, who inquired where he had
hidden them. He lifted his left arm where the gold was, and she
picked up a knife and scraped his skin so that no gold should be
left sticking to it.
'What have you done with the bridge?' said she. And he lifted
his right arm, from which she took the bridge, while the Bad One
looked on, well pleased. 'Be sure that he does not run away,'
chuckled he. 'Boil some water, and get him ready for cooking,
while I go and invite my friends the water-demons to the feast.'
The woman seized Ball-Carrier between her finger and thumb, and
was going to carry him to the kitchen, when the boy spoke:
'I am very lean and small now,' he said, 'hardly worth the
trouble of cooking; but if you were to keep me two days, and gave
me plenty of food, I should get big and fat. As it is, your
friends the water-demons would think you meant to laugh at them,
when they found that I was the feast.'
'Well, perhaps you are right,' answered the Bad One; 'I will keep
you for two days.' And he went out to visit the water-demons.
Meanwhile the servant, whose name was Lung Woman, led him into a
little shed, and chained him up to a ring in the wall. But food
was given him every hour, and at the end of two days he was as
fat and big as a Christmas turkey, and could hardly move his head
from one side to the other.
'He will do now,' said the Bad One, who came constantly to see
how he was getting on. 'I shall go and tell the water-demons
that we expect them to dinner to-night. Put the kettle on the
fire, but be sure on no account to taste the broth.'
'You will spill it all, if you. stand so far off,' said the boy;
' why don't you come a little nearer?' And as she did so he cried
to the spirits to give him back his usual size and strength and
to make the water scalding hot Then he gave the kettle a kick,
which upset all the boiling water upon her, and jumping over her
body he seized once more the gold and the bridge, picked up his
club and bow and arrows, and after setting fire to the Bad One's
hut, ran down to the river, which he crossed safely by the help
of the bridge.
The hut, which was made of wood, was burned to the ground before
the Bad One came back with a large crowd of water-demons. There
was not a sign of anyone or anything, so he started for the
river, where he saw Ball Carrier sitting quietly on the other
side. Then the Bad One knew what had happened, and after telling
the water demons that there would be no feast after all, he
called to Ball-Carrier, who was eating an a,pple.
'I know your name now,' he said, 'and as you have ruined me, and
I am not rich any more, will you take me as your servant?'
'Oh, well, let her try,' replied Ball-Carrier. 'It is not the
first time people have wished to do that. And here I am still,
you see!'
'Be careful,' said the wife, ' she is very cunning.' But at this
moment the sister-in-law came up.
' That will suit me very well,' replied the woman, who was a
witch. 'And let us agree that the one who wins shall have the
right to kill the other.'
This being settled they both made ready for the race, and
Ball-Carrier silently begged the good spirits to help him, and
not to let him fall into the hands of this wicked witch.
'When the sun touches the trunk of that tree we will start,' said
she, as they both stood side by side. But with the first step
Ball-Carrier changed himself into a wolf and for a long way kept
ahead. Then gradually he heard her creeping up behind him, and
soon she was in front. So Ball-Carrier took the shape of a
pigeon and flew rapidly past her, but in a little while she was
in front again and the end of the prairie was in sight. 'A crow
can fly faster than a pigeon,' thought he, and as a crow he
managed to pass her and held his ground so long that he fancied
she was quite beaten. The witch began to be afraid of it too,
and putting out all her strength slipped past him. Next he put
on the shape of a hawk, and in this form he reached the bounds of
the prairie, he and the witch turning homewards at the moment.
Bird after bird he tried, but every time the witch gained on him
and took the lead. At length the goal was in sight, and
Ball-Carrier knew that unless he could get ahead now he would be
killed before his own door, under the eyes of his wife. His eyes
had grown dim from fatigue, his wings flapped wearily and hardly
bore him along, while the witch seemed as fresh as ever. What
bird was there whose flight was swifter than his? Would not the
good spirits tell him? Ah, of course he knew; why had he not
thought of it at first and spared himself all that fatigue? And
the next instant a humming bird, dressed in green and blue,
flashed past the woman and entered the house. The witch came
panting up, furious at having lost the race which she felt
certain of winning; and Ball-Carrier, who had by this time
changed back into his own shape, struck her on the head and
killed her.
By-and-by some travellers came past, and the chief among them
asked leave to marry Ball-Carrier's daughter. The mother said
she must have a little time to think over it, as her daughter was
still very young; so it was settled that the man should go away
for a month with his friends, and then come back to see if the
girl was willing.
Now ever since Ball-Carrier's death the family had been very
poor, and often could not get enough to eat. One morning the
girl, who had had no supper and no breakfast, wandered off to
look for cranberries, and though she was quite near home was
astonished at noticing a large hut, which certainly had not been
there when last she had come that way. No one was about, so she
ventured to peep in, and her surprise was increased at seeing,
heaped up in one corner, a quantity of food of all sorts, while a
little robin redbreast stood perched on a beam looking down upon
her.
From that day, whenever they wanted food they went to the hut,
and though the robin could not speak, he would hop on their
shoulders and let them feed him with the food they knew he liked
best.
When the man came back he found the girl looking so much prettier
and fatter than when he had left her, that he insisted that they
should be married on the spot. And the mother, who did not know
how to get rid of him, gave in.
The husband spent all his time in hunting, and the family had
never had so much meat before; but the man, who had seen for
himself how poor they were, noticed with amazement that they did
not seem to care about it, or to be hungry. 'They must get food
from somewhere,' he thought, and one morning, when he pretended
to be going out to hunt, he hid in a thicket to watch. Very soon
they all left the house together, and walked to the other hut,
which the girl's husband saw for the first time, as it was hid in
a hollow. He followed, and noticed that each one went up to the
redbreast, and shook him by the claw; and he then entered boldly
and shook the bird's claw too. The whole party afterwards sat
down to dinner, after which they all returned to their own hut.
The next day the husband declared that he was very ill, and could
not eat anything; but this was only a presence so that he might
get what he wanted. The family were all much distressed, and
begged him to tell them what food he fancied.
'Oh! I could not eat any food,' he answered every time, and at
each answer his voice grew fainter and fainter, till they thought
he would die from weakness before their eyes.
'There must be some thing you could take, if you would only say
what it is,' implored his wife.
'No, I am sure it is not,' replied she; ' you shall have it, I
promise--only tell me what it is.'
'You shall not die,' cried the girl, who was very fond of her
husband, for he did not beat her as most girls' husbands did.
'Whatever it is, I will manage to get it for you.'
The wife started back in horror at such a request; but the man
turned his face to the wall, and took no notice, as he thought it
was better to leave her to herself for a little.
Weeping and wringing her hands, the girl went down to her mother.
The brothers were very angry when they heard the story, and
declared that, if any one were to die, it certainly should not be
the robin. But all that night the man seemed getting weaker and
weaker, and at last, quite early, the wife crept out, and
stealing to the hut, killed the bird, and brought him home to her
husband.
Just as she was going to cook it her two brothers came in. They
cried out in horror at the sight, and, rushing out of the hut,
declared they would never see her any more. And the poor girl,
with a heavy heart, took the body of the redbreast up to her
husband.
But directly she entered the room the man told her that he felt a
great deal better, and that he would rather have a piece of
bear's flesh, well boiled, than any bird, however tender. His
wife felt very miserable to think that their beloved redbreast
had been sacrificed for nothing, and begged him to try a little
bit.
'You felt so sure that it would do you good before,' said she,
'that I can't help thinking it would quite cure you now.' But
the man only flew into a rage, and flung the bird out of the
window. Then he got up and went out.
Now all this while the ball had been rolling, rolling, rolling to
the old grandmother's hut on the other side of the world, and
directly it rolled into her hut she knew that her grandson must
be dead. Without wasting any time she took a fox skin and tied
it round her forehead, and fastened another round her waist, as
witches always do when they leave their own homes. When she was
ready she said to the ball: ' Go back the way you came, and lead
me to my grandson.' And the ball started with the old woman
following.
It was a long journey, even for a witch, but, like other things,
it ended at last; and the old woman stood before the platform of
stakes, where the body of Ball-Carrier lay.
When they reached the hut where Ball-Carrier had fasted so many
years ago, the old woman spoke for the first time since they had
started on their way.
'My grandson, did you ever manage to get that gold from the Bad
One?'
So she picked up a knife and scraped away all the gold which had
stuck to his skin, and which had been sticking there ever since
he first stole it. After she had finished she asked again:
'My grandson, did you manage to get that bridge from the Bad
One?'
'Where is it?' she asked, and Ball-Carrier lifted his right arm,
and pointed to his arm-pit.
Then the witch did something that nobody in the world could have
guessed that she would do. First, she took the gold and said to
Ball-carrier:
'My grandson, this gold must be hidden in the earth, for if
people think they can get it when they choose, they will become
lazy and stupid. But if we take it and bury it in different
parts of the world they will have to work for it if they want it,
and then will only find a little at a time.' And as she spoke,
she pulled up one of the poles of the hut, and Ball-Carrier saw
that underneath was a deep, deep hole, which seemed to have no
bottom. Down this hole she poured all the gold, and when it was
out of sight it ran about all over the world, where people that
dig hard sometimes find it. And after that was done she put the
pole back again.
Next she lifted down a spade from a high shelf, where it had
grown quite rusty, and dug a very small hole on the opposite side
of the hut--very small, but very deep.
'Give me the bridge,' said she, ' for I am going to bury it here.
If anyone was to get hold of it, and find that they could cross
rivers and seas without any trouble, they would never discover
how to cross them for themselves. I am a witch, and if I had
chosen I could easily have cast my spells over the Bad One, and
have made him deliver them to you the first day you came into my
hut. But then you would never have fasted, and never have
planned how to get what you wanted, and never have known the good
spirits, and would have been fat and idle to the end of your
days. And now go; in that hut, which you can just see far away,
live your father and mother, who are old people now, and need a
son to hunt for them. You have done what you were set to do, and
I need you no more.'
The Bunyip
Long, long ago, far, far away on the other side of the world,
some young men left the camp where they lived to get some food
for their wives and children. The sun was hot, but they liked
heat, and as they went they ran races and tried who could hurl
his spear the farthest, or was cleverest in throwing a strange
weapon called a boomerang, which always returns to the thrower.
They did not get on very fast at this rate, but presently they
reached a flat place that in time of flood was full of water, but
was now, in the height of summer, only a set of pools, each
surrounded with a fringe of plants, with bulrushes standing in
the inside of all. In that country the people are fond of the
roots of bulrushes, which they think as good as onions, and one
of the young men said that they had better collect some of the
roots and carry them back to the camp. It did not take them long
to weave the tops of the willows into a basket, and they were
just going to wade into the water and pull up the bulrush roots
when a youth suddenly called out: 'After all, why should we waste
our time in doing work that is only fit for women and children?
Let them come and get the roots for themselves; but we will fish
for eels and anything else we can get.'
This delighted the rest of the party, and they all began to
arrange their fishing lines, made from the bark of the yellow
mimosa, and to search for bait for their hooks. Most of them
used worms, but one, who had put a piece of raw meat for dinner
into his skin wallet, cut off a little bit and baited his line
with it, unseen by his companions.
By this time it was getting near sunset, and the plain was in
shadow, though the tops of the mountains were still quite bright.
The youths had all ceased to be afraid, when they were startled
by a low rushing sound behind them, and, looking round, saw that
the pool was slowly rising, and the spot where they had landed
the Bunyip was quite covered. 'What could it be?' they asked one
of another; ' there was not a cloud in the sky, yet the water had
risen higher already than they had ever known it do before.' For
an instant they stood watching as if they were frozen, then they
turned and ran with all their might, the man with the Bunyip run-
ning faster than all. When he reached a high peak over- looking
all the plain he stopped to take breath, and turned to see if he
was safe yet. Safe! why only the tops of the trees remained
above that sea of water, and these were fast disappearing. They
must run fast indeed if they were to escape. So on they flew,
scarcely feeling the ground as they went, till they flung
themselves on the ground before the holes scooped out of the
earth where they had all been born. The old men were sitting in
front, the children were playing, and the women chattering
together, when the little Bunyip fell into their midst, and there
was scarcely a child among them who did not know that something
terrible was upon them. 'The water! the water!' gasped one of
the young men; and there it was, slowly but steadily mounting the
ridge itself. Parents and children clung together, as if by that
means they could drive back the advancing flood; and the youth
who had caused all this terrible catastrophe, seized his
sweetheart, and cried: 'I will climb with you to the top of that
tree, and there no waters can reach us.' But, as he spoke,
something cold touched him, and quickly he glanced down at his
feet. Then with a shudder he saw that they were feet no longer,
but bird's claws. He looked at the girl he was clasping, and
beheld a great black bird standing at his side; he turned to his
friends, but a flock of great awkward flapping creatures stood in
their place He put up his hands to cover his face, but they were
no more hands, only the ends of wings; and when he tried to
speak, a noise such as he had never heard before seemed to come
from his throat, which had suddenly become narrow and slender.
Already the water had risen to his waist, and he found himself
sitting easily upon it, while its surface reflected back the
image of a black swan, one of many.
Never again did the swans become men; but they are still
different from other swans, for in the night-time those who
listen can hear them talk in a language that is certainly not
swan's language; and there are even sounds of laughing and
talking, unlike any noise made by the swans whom we know.
The little Bunyip was carried home by its mother, and after that
the waters sank back to their own channels. The side of the pool
where she lives is always shunned by everyone, as nobody knows
when she may suddenly put out her head and draw him into her
mighty jaws. But people say that underneath the black waters of
the pool she has a house filled with beautiful things, such as
mortals who dwell on the earth have no idea of. Though how they
know I cannot tell you, as nobody has ever seen it.
Father Grumbler
Once upon a time there lived a man who had nearly as many
children as there were sparrows in the garden. He had to work
very hard all day to get them enough to eat, and was often tired
and cross, and abused everything and everybody, so that people
called him 'Father Grumbler.'
Father Grumbler entered his house feeling more dismal than when
he left it, for he knew that he had wasted both his time and his
money.
'I will go and see the Holy Man in the cave near the well,' he
said to himself, 'and perhaps he can tell me why all the luck is
for other people, and only misfortunes happen to me.' And he set
out at once for the cave.
It was a long way off, and the road led over mountains and
through valleys; but at last he reached the cave where the Holy
Man dwelt, and knocked at the door.
'It is I, Holy Man, Father Grumbler, you know, who has as many
children as sparrows in the garden.'
'I want to know why other people have all the luck, and only
misfortunes happen to me!'
The Holy Man did not answer, but went into an inner cave, from
which he came out bearing something in his hand. 'Do you see
this basket?' said he. 'It is a magical basket, and if you are
hungry you have only got to say: "Little basket, little basket,
do your duty," and you will eat the best dinner you ever had in
your life. But when you have had enough, be sure you don't
forget to cry out: "That will do for to-day." Oh!--and one thing
more--you need not show it to everybody and declare that I have
give it to you. Do you understand?'
Now the basket had a lid, so that he could not see what was
inside, but he heard quite clearly strange noises, as if a sort
of scuffling was going on. Then the lid burst open, and a
quantity of delicious little white rolls came tumbling out one
after the other, followed by a stream of small fishes all ready
cooked. What a quantity there were to be sure! The whole road
was covered with them, and the banks on each side were beginning
to disappear. Father Grumbler felt quite frightened at the
torrent, but at last he remembered what the Holy Man had told
him, and cried at the top of his voice: 'Enough! enough! That
will do for to-day!' And the lid of the basket closed with a
snap.
Yet, somehow, he could never tell why, he looked up and saw the
tavern in front of him, which he thought was miles, and miles,
and miles away.
'Bring the best wine you have got, and two glasses, good mother,'
he said as he entered, 'and if you are fond of fish there is
enough here to feed the house. Only there is no need to chatter
about it all over the place. You understand? Eh?' And without
waiting for an answer he whispered to the basket: 'Little basket,
little basket, do your duty.' The innkeeper and his wife thought
that their customer had gone suddenly mad, and watched him
closely, ready to spring on him if he became violent; but both
instinctively jumped backwards, nearly into the fire, as rolls
and fishes of every kind came tumbling out of the basket,
covering the tables and chairs and the floor, and even
overflowing into the street.
'Be quick, be quick, and pick them up,' cried the man. 'And if
these are not enough, there are plenty more to be had for the
asking.'
The innkeeper and his wife did not need telling twice. Down they
went on their knees and gathered up everything they could lay
hands on. But busy though they seemed, they found time to
whisper to each other:
'If we can only get hold of that basket it will make our
fortune!'
It was dinner time when the man awoke, and, jumping up hastily,
he set out for home, where he found all the children gathered
round a basin of thin soup, and pushing their wooden bowls
forward, hoping to have the first spoonful. Their father burst
into the midst of them, bearing his basket, and crying:
'What is the matter with the thing?' cried the father at last,
snatching the basket from them, and turning it all over,
grumbling and swearing while he did so, under the eyes of his
astonished wife and children, who did not know whether to cry or
to laugh.
'I have taken the wrong basket--by mistake, of course,' said he.
'Here is yours, will you give me back my own?'
'Why, what are you talking about?' answered she. 'You can see
for yourself that there is no basket here.'
And though Father Grumbler DID look, it was quite true that none
was to be seen.
'Come, take a glass to warm you this cold day,' said the woman,
who was anxious to keep him in a good temper, and as this was an
invitation Father Grumbler never refused, he tossed it off and
left the house.
He took the road that led to the Holy Man's cave, and made such
haste that it was not long before he reached it.
'It is me, it is me, Holy man. You know quite well. Father
Grumbler, who has as many children as sparrows in the garden.'
'Yes, Holy Man, and here it is. But something has happened, I
don't know what, and it won't work any more.'
'Well, put it down. I will go and see if I can find anything for
you.'
In a few minutes the Holy Man returned with a cock under his arm.
'Listen to me,' he said, 'whenever you want money, you only have
to say: "Show me what you can do, cock," and you will see some
wonderful things. But, remember, it is not necessary to let all
the world into the secret.'
'Where have you come from, with that fine red cock in your
basket,' asked she, for the bird was so big that the lid would
not shut down properly.
'Oh, I come from a place where they don't keep these things by
the dozen,' he replied, sitting down in front of the table.
The woman said no more, but set before him a bottle of his
favourite wine, and soon he began to wish to display his prize.
'Show me what you can do, cock,' cried he. And the cock stood up
and flapped his wings three times, crowing 'coquerico' with a
voice like a trumpet, and at each crow there fell from his beak
golden drops, and diamonds as large as peas.
This time Father Grumbler did not invite the innkeeper's wife to
pick up his treasures, but put his own hat under the cock's beak,
so as to catch everything he let fall; and he did not see the
husband and wife exchanging glances with each other which said,
'That would be a splendid cock to put with our basket.'
Night was falling when the man awoke, and throwing proudly some
grains of gold on the table to pay for the wine he had drunk, he
tucked the cock comfortably into his basket and set out for home.
His wife and all the children were waiting for him at the door,
and as soon as she caught sight of him she broke out:
'You are a nice man to go wasting your time and your money
drinking in that tavern, and leaving us to starve! Aren't you
ashamed of yourself?'
'You don't know what you are talking of,' he answered. 'Money?
Why, I have gold and diamonds now, as much as I want. Do you see
that cock? Well, you have only to say to him, "Show me what you
can do, cock," and something splendid will happen.'
Neither wife nor children were inclined to put much faith in him
after their last experience; however, they thought it was worth
trying, and did as he told them. The cock flew round the room
like a mad thing, and crowed till their heads nearly split with
the noise; but no gold or diamonds dropped on the brick floor--
not the tiniest grain of either.
'Can I have forgotten the words? But I KNOW that was what he
said! And I saw the diamonds with my own eyes!' Then suddenly he
seized the cock, shut it into the basket, and rushed out of the
house.
His heavy wooden shoes clattered as he ran along the road, and he
made such haste that the stars were only just beginning to come
out when he reached the cave of the Holy Man.
'But, my good fellow, you really should give some one else a
chance. This is the third time you have been--and at such an
hour, too!'
'Oh, yes, Holy Man, I know it is very late, but you will forgive
me! It is your cock--there is something the matter. It is like
the basket. Look!'
'I warned you not to show them to anybody,' said the Holy Man.
'You deserve--but I will give you one more chance.' And,
turning, he unhooked something from the wall.
'When you wish to dust your own jacket or those of your friends,'
he said, 'you have only got to say, "Flack, flick, switch, be
quick," and you will see what happens. That is all I have to
tell you.' And, smiling to himself, the Holy Man pushed Father
Grumbler out of the cave.
After dinner, which he did not eat without grumbling, for the
cock was very tough, the man struck his hand on the table, and
said: 'Now listen to me. Go and fetch my cock and my basket, at
once. Do you hear?'
'Your cock, and your basket, Father Grumbler? But you have just-
-'
'MY cock and MY basket!' interrupted he. 'And, if you are too
deaf and too stupid to understand what that means, I have got
something which may help to teach you.' And opening the bag, he
cried: 'Flack, flick, switch, be quick.'
'Stop! stop! make it stop, and you shall have back your cock and
basket,' cried the man and his wife. And Father Grumbler, who
had no wish to go on, called out between his hops: 'Stop then,
can't you? That is enough for to-day!'
But the switch paid no attention, and dealt out its blows as
before, and MIGHT have been dealing them to this day, if the Holy
Man had not heard their cries and come to the rescue. 'Into the
bag, quick!' said he, and the switch obeyed.
'Now go and fetch me the cock and the basket,' and the woman went
without a word, and placed them on the table.
'You have all got what you deserved,' continued the Holy Man,
'and I have no pity for any of you. I shall take my treasures
home, and perhaps some day I may find a man who knows how to make
the best of the chances that are given to him. But that will
never be YOU,' he added, turning to Father Grumbler.
Down in the south, where the sun shines so hotly that everything
and everybody sleeps all day, and even the great forests seem
silent, except early in the morning and late in the evening--down
in this country there once lived a young man and a maiden. The
girl had been born in the town, and had scarcely ever left it;
but the young man was a native of another country, and had only
come to the city near the great river because he could find no
work to do where he was.
A few months after his arrival, when the days were cooler, and
the people did not sleep so much as usual, a great feast was held
a little way out of the town, and to this feast everyone flocked
from thirty miles and more. Some walked and some rode, some came
in beautiful golden coaches; but all had on splendid dresses of
red or blue, while wreaths of flowers rested on their hair.
It was the first time that the youth had been present on such an
occasion, and he stood silently aside watching the graceful
dances and the pretty games played by the young people. And as
he watched, he noticed one girl, dressed in white with scarlet
pomegranates in her hair, who seemed to him lovelier than all the
rest.
When the feast was over, and the young man returned home, his
manner was so strange that it drew the attention of all his
friends.
Through his work next day the youth continued to see the girl's
face, throwing the ball to her companions, or threading her way
between them as she danced. At night sleep fled from him, and
after tossing for hours on his bed, he would get up and plunge
into a deep pool that lay a little way in the forest.
This state of things went on for some weeks, then at last chance
favoured him. One evening, as he was passing near the house
where she lived, he saw her standing with her back to the wall,
trying to beat off with her fan the attacks of a savage dog that
was leaping at her throat. Alonzo, for such was his name, sprang
forward, and with one blow of his fist stretched the creature
dead upon the road. He then helped the frightened and half-
fainting girl into the large cool verandah where her parents were
sitting, and from that hour he was a welcome guest in the house,
and it was not long before he was the promised husband of Julia.
Every day, when his work was done, he used to go up to the house,
half hidden among flowering plants and brilliant creepers, where
humming-birds darted from bush to bush, and parrots of all
colours, red and green and grey, shrieked in chorus. There he
would find the maiden waiting for him, and they would spend an
hour or two under the stars, which looked so large and bright
that you felt as if you could almost touch them.
'What did you do last night after you went home?' suddenly asked
the girl one evening.
'Just the same as I always do,' answered he. 'It was too hot to
sleep, so it was no use going to bed, and I walked straight of to
the forest and bathed in one of those deep dark pools at the edge
of the river. I have been there constantly for several months,
but last night a strange thing happened. I was taking my last
plunge, when I heard--sometimes from one side, and sometimes from
another--the sound of a voice singing more sweetly than any
nightingale, though I could not catch any words. I left the
pool, and, dressing myself as fast as I could, I searched every
bush and tree round the water, as I fancied that perhaps it was
my friend who was playing a trick on me, but there was not a
creature to be seen; and when I reached home I found my friend
fast asleep.'
As Julia listened her face grew deadly white, and her whole body
shivered as if with cold. From her childhood she had heard
stories of the terrible beings that lived in the forests and were
hidden under the banks of the rivers, and could only be kept off
by powerful charms. Could the voice which had bewitched Alonzo
have come from one of these? Perhaps, who knows, it might be the
voice of the dreaded Yara herself, who sought young men on the
eve of their marriage as her prey.
For a moment the girl sat choked with fear, as these thoughts
rushed through her; then she said: 'Alonzo, will you promise
something?'
'But why not, queen of my soul; have I not gone there always, and
nothing has harmed me, flower of my heart?'
'No; but perhaps something will. If you will not promise I shall
go mad with fright. Promise me.'
'Why, what is the matter? You look so pale! Tell me why you are
so frightened?'
'Suppose I did, how could that hurt me? It was the loveliest
song I ever heard!'
'Yes, and after the song will come the apparition; and after
that-- after that--'
'I don't understand. Well--after that?'
'After that--death.'
Alonzo stared at her. Had she really gone mad? Such talk was
very unlike Julia; but before he could collect his senses the
girl spoke again:
'Because the voice you heard--I know you will laugh, but it is
quite true--it was the voice of the Yara.'
'Oh, heaven! you have seen her! you have seen her! what shall I
do?'
'You may not know it, but it is true. Nobody who has not seen
the Yara laughs like that.' And Julia flung herself on the
ground weeping bitterly.
'Do not cry so, my angel,' he said, 'I will promise anything you
please. Only let me see you smile again.'
With a great effort Julia checked her sobs, and rose to her feet.
'Thank you,' she answered. 'My heart grows lighter as you say
that! I know you will try to keep your word and to stay away from
the forest. But--the power of the Yara is very strong, and the
sound of her voice is apt to make men forget everything else in
the world. Oh, I have seen it, and more than one betrothed
maiden lives alone, broken-hearted. If ever you should return to
the pool where you first heard the voice, promise me that you
will at least take this with you.' And opening a curiously
carved box, she took out a sea-shell shot with many colours, and
sang a song softly into it. 'The moment you hear the Yara's
voice,' said she, 'put this to your ear, and you will hear my
song instead. Perhaps--I do not know for certain--but perhaps, I
may be stronger than the Yara.'
It was late that night when Alonzo returned home. The moon was
shining on the distant river, which looked cool and inviting, and
the trees of the forest seemed to stretch out their arms and
beckon him near. But the young man steadily turned his face in
the other direction, and went home to bed.
The struggle had been hard, but Alonzo had his reward next day in
the joy and relief with which Julia greeted him. He assured her
that having overcome the temptation once the danger was now over;
but she, knowing better than he did the magic of the Yara's face
and voice, did not fail to make him repeat his promise when he
went away.
For three nights Alonzo kept his word, not because he believed in
the Yara, for he thought that the tales about her were all
nonsense, but because he could not bear the tears with which he
knew that Julia would greet him, if he confessed that he had
returned to the forest. But, in spite of this, the song rang in
his ears, and daily grew louder.
When he reached the river he paused and looked round for a moment
to make sure that the strange feeling of some one watching him
was fancy, and he was really alone. But the moon shone brightly
on every tree, and nothing was to be seen but his own shadow;
nothing was to be heard but the sound of the rippling stream.
He threw off his clothes, and was just about to dive in headlong,
when something--he did not know what--suddenly caused him to look
round. At the same instant the moon passed from behind a cloud,
and its rays fell on a beautiful golden-haired woman standing
half hidden by the ferns.
With one bound he caught up his mantle, and rushed headlong down
the path he had come, fearing at each step to feel a hand laid on
his shoulder. It was not till he had left the last trees behind
him, and was standing in the open plain, that he dared to look
round, and then he thought a figure in white was still standing
there waving her arms to and fro. This was enough; he ran along
the road harder than ever, and never paused till he was save in
his own room.
With the earliest rays of dawn he went back to the forest to see
whether he could find any traces of the Yara, but though he
searched every clump of bushes, and looked up every tree,
everything was empty, and the only voices he heard were those of
parrots, which are so ugly that they only drive people away.
'I think I must be mad,' he said to himself, 'and have dreamt all
that folly'; and going back to the city he began his daily work.
But either that was harder than usual, or he must be ill, for he
could not fix his mind upon it, and everybody he came across
during the day inquired if anything had happened to give him that
white, frightened look.
He did not stop till he had reached the river pool, when holding
the pistol in his hand, he looked about him. At every little
noise-- the falling of a leaf, the rustle of an animal in the
bushes, the cry of a night-bird--he sprang up and cocked his
pistol in the direction of the sound. But though the moon still
shone he saw nothing, and by and by a kind of dreamy state seemed
to steal over him as he leant against a tree.
She smiled at him and held out her arms, but as she did so there
came over him the remembrance of Julia, as he had seen her a few
hours earlier, and her warnings and fears for the very danger in
which he now found himself.
Meanwhile the figure was always drawing nearer, nearer; but, with
a violent effort, Alonzo shook off his stupor, and taking aim at
her shoulder he pulled the trigger. The report awoke the
sleeping echoes, and was repeated all through the forest, but the
figure smiled still, and went on advancing. Again Alonzo fired,
and a second time the bullet whistled through the air, and the
figure advanced nearer. A moment more, and she would be at his
side.
Then, his pistol being empty, he grasped the barrel with both
hands, and stood ready to use it as a club should the Yara
approach and closer. But now it seemed her turn to feel afraid,
for she paused an instant while he pressed forward, still holding
the pistol above his head, prepared to strike.
In his excitement he had forgotten the river, and it was not till
the cold water touched his feet that he stood still by instinct.
The Yara saw that he was wavering, and suffering herself to sway
gently backwards and forwards on the surface of the river, she
began to sing. The song floated through the trees, now far and
now near; no one could tell whence it came, the whole air seemed
full of it. Alonzo felt his senses going and his will failing.
His arms dropped heavily to his side, but in falling struck
against the sea shell, which, as he had promised Julia, he had
always carried in his coat.
His dimmed mind was just clear enough to remember what she had
said, and with trembling fingers, that were almost powerless to
grasp, he drew it out. As he did so the song grew sweeter and
more tender than before, but he shut his ears to it and bent his
head over the shell. Out of its depths arose the voice of Julia
singing to him as she had sung when she gave him the shell, and
though the notes sounded faint at first, they swelled louder and
louder till the mist which had gathered about him was blown away.
Then he raised his head, feeling that he had been through strange
places, where he could never wander any more; and he held himself
erect and strong, and looked about him. Nothing was to be seen
but the shining of the river, and the dark shadows of the trees;
nothing was to be heard but the hum of the insects, as they
darted through the night.
In a very cold country, far across the seas, where ice and snow
cover the ground for many months in the year, there lived a
little hare, who, as his father and mother were both dead, was
brought up by his grandmother. As he was too young, and she was
too old, to work, they were very poor, and often did not have
enough to eat.
One day, when the little fellow was hungrier than usual, he asked
his grandmother if he might go down to the river and catch a fish
for their breakfast, as the thaw had come and the water was
flowing freely again. She laughed at him for thinking that any
fish would let itself be caught by a hare, especially such a
young one; but as she had the rheumatism very badly, and could
get no food herself, she let him go. 'If he does not catch a
fish he may find something else,' she said to herself. So she
told her grandson where to look for the net, and how he was to
set it across the river; but just as he was starting, feeling
himself quite a man, she called him back.
'After all, I don't know what is the use of your going, my boy!
For even if you should catch a fish, I have no fire to cook it
with.'
It took him some time to haul the net through bushes and over
fields, but at length he reached a pool in the river which he had
often heard was swarming with fish, and here he set the net, as
his grandmother had directed him.
He was so excited that he hardly slept all night, and at the very
first streak of dawn he ran as fast as ever he could down to the
river. His heart beat as quickly as if he had had dogs behind
him, and he hardly dared to look, lest he should be disappointed.
Would there be even one fish? And at this thought the pangs of
hunger made him feel quite sick with fear. But he need not have
been afraid; in every mesh of the net was a fine fat fish, and of
course the net itself was so heavy that he could only lift one
corner. He threw some of the fish back into the water, and
buried some more in a hole under a stone, where he would be sure
to find them. Then he rolled up the net with the rest, put it on
his back and carried it home. The weight of the load caused his
back to ache, and he was thankful to drop it outside their hut,
while he rushed in, full of joy, to tell his grandmother. 'Be
quick and clean them!' he said, 'and I will go to those people's
tents on the other side of the water.'
When the fish were all taken out, he fetched the net which he had
laid out to dry, folded it up very small, and ran down to the
river, hoping that he might find a place narrow enough for him to
jump over; but he soon saw that it was too wide for even the best
jumper in the world. For a few moments he stood there, wondering
what was to be done, then there darted into his head some words
of a spell which he had once heard a wizard use, while drinking
from the river. He repeated them, as well as he could remember,
and waited to see what would happen. In five minutes such a
grunting and a puffing was heard, and columns of water rose into
the air, though he could not tell what had made them. Then round
the bend of the stream came fifteen huge whales, which he ordered
to place themselves heads to tails, like stepping stones, so that
he could jump from one to the other till he landed on the
opposite shore. Directly he got there he told the whales that he
did not need them any more, and sat down in the sand to rest.
'Throw it in the pot,' said the old woman, as soon as he had told
his story; 'put it in that basket, and as soon as the water boils
in the pot we will hang it over the fire!'
'Better kill it first,' said the old man; and the hare listened,
horribly frightened, but still looking secretly to see if there
was no hole through which he could escape, if he had a chance of
doing so. Yes, there was one, right in the top of the tent, so,
shaking himself, as if with fright, he let the end of his net
unroll itself a little.
'I wish that a spark of fire would fall on my net,' whispered he;
and the next minute a great log fell forward into the midst of
the tent, causing every one to spring backwards. The sparks were
scattered in every direction, and one fell on the net, making a
little blaze. In an instant the hare had leaped through the
hole, and was racing towards the river, with men, women, and
children after him. There was no time to call back the whales,
so, holding the net tight in his mouth, he wished himself across
the river. Then he jumped high into the air, and landed safe on
the other side, and after turning round to be sure that there was
no chance of anyone pursuing him, trotted happily home to his
grandmother.
'Didn't I tell you I would bring you fire?' said he, holding up
his net, which was now burning briskly.
'But how did you cross the water?' inquired the old woman.
'Oh, I just jumped!' said he. And his grandmother asked him no
more questions, for she saw that he was wiser than she.
There was once a turtle who lived among a great many people of
different kinds, in a large camp near a big river which was born
right up amongst the snows, and flowed straight away south till
it reached a sea where the water was always hot.
There were many other turtles in the camp, and this turtle was
kind and pleasant to them all, but he did not care for any of
them very much, and felt rather lonely.
It took him some time to make up his mind, for no turtle likes
being hurried, but at length he found one girl who seemed
prettier and more industrious than the rest, and one day he
entered her home, and said: 'Will you marry me?'
'But how are you going to provide for a family? Why, when the
camp moves, you will not even be able to keep up with the rest!'
'I can keep up with the best of them,' replied the turtle,
tossing his head. But though he was very much offended he did
not let the girl see it, and begged and, prayed her so hard to
marry him that, at last, she consented, very unwillingly.
'You will have to wait till the spring, though,' she said; 'I
must make a great many slippers and dresses for myself, as I
shall not have much time afterwards.'
This did not please the turtle; but he knew it was no use
talking, so all he answered was:
'I shall go to war and take some captives, and I shall be away
several months. And when I return I shall expect you to be ready
to marry me.'
'In four days from now you will be weeping instead of laughing,
because there will be hundreds of miles between you and me.'
'In four days,' replied the girl--who only promised to marry him
in order to get rid of him--'in four days you will hardly be out
of sight.'
'Oh, I did not mean four days, but four YEARS,' answered the
turtle, hastily; 'whatever happens I shall be back by then.'
The army marched on, till one day, when they felt as if they must
have got half round the earth, though they were scarcely four
miles from the camp, they found a large tree lying across their
path. They looked at it with dismay, and the oldest among them
put their heads together to see what was to be done.
'How are we to do that, when the roots have made a deep hole, and
above that is a high bank?' replied a fourth. 'No; the only way
I can think of, is to burn a large hole in the trunk.' And this
they did, but the trunk was very thick, and would not burn
through.
They took even longer to go back than they had to come, for they
were tired and footsore with their journey. When they drew near
the camp they plucked up their courage, and began to sing a war-
song. At this the villagers came flocking to see what spoils the
turtles had won, but, as they approached, each turtle seized some
one by the wrist, exclaiming: 'You are our spoils; you are our
prisoners!'
'Now that I have got you I will keep you,' said the leader, who
had happened to seize his betrothed.
'That woman who was to have been your wife has married another
man!'
'Is that true?' said the turtle. 'Then I must see him.'
But as soon as the villager was out of sight the turtle stopped,
and taking a bundle containing fringes and ornaments from his
back, he hung them about him, so that they rattled as he walked.
When he was quite close to the hut where the woman lived, he
cried out:
'Leave that to me; I will manage him,' replied the wife, and at
that moment the turtle came in, and seized her by the wrist.
'Come with me,' he said sternly.
'You broke your promise,' answered she. 'You said you would be
back soon, and it is more than a year since you went! How was I
to know that you were alive?'
'Yes, you promised you would go to war and bring back some
prisoners, and you have not done it.'
'I DID go, and made many prisoners,' retorted the turtle angrily,
drawing out his knife. 'Look here, if she won't be MY wife, she
sha'n't be YOURS. I will cut her in two; and you shall have one
half, and I the other.'
'But half a woman is no use to me,' answered the man. 'If you
want her so much you had better take her.' And the turtle,
followed by his relations, carried her off to his own hut.
Now the woman saw she would gain nothing by being sulky, so she
pretended to be very glad to have got rid of her husband; but all
the while she was trying to invent a plan to deliver herself from
the turtle. At length she remembered that one of her friends had
a large iron pot, and when the turtle had gone to his room to put
away his fringes, she ran over to her neighbour's and brought it
back. Then she filled it with water and hung it over the fire to
boil. It was just beginning to bubble and hiss when the turtle
entered.
'What are you doing there?' asked he, for he was always afraid of
things that he did not understand.
'Just warming some water,' she answered. 'Do you know how to
swim?'
'Oh, I only thought that after your long journey you might like
to wash. The roads are so muddy, after the winter's rains. I
could rub your shell for you till it was bright and shining
again.
'Well, I AM rather muddy. If one is fighting, you know, one
cannot stop to pick one's way. I should certainly be more
comfortable if my back was washed.'
The woman did not wait for him to change his mind. She caught
him up by his shell and popped him straight into the pot, where
he sank to the bottom, and died instantly.
The other turtles, who were standing at the door, saw their
leader disappear, and felt it was their duty as soldiers to
follow him; and, springing into the pot, died too. All but one
young turtle, who, frightened at not seeing any of his friends
come out again, went as fast as he could to a clump of bushes,
and from there made his way to the river. His only thought was
to get away as far as possible from that dreadful hut; so he let
the river carry him where it was going itself, and at last, one
day, he found himself in the warm sea, where, if he is not dead,
you may meet him still.
[Bureau of Ethnology.]
Once upon a time there lived a poor knight who had a great many
children, and found it very hard to get enough for them to eat.
One day he sent his eldest son, Rosald, a brave and honest youth,
to the neighbouring town to do some business, and here Rosald met
a young man named Geirald, with whom he made friends.
Now Geirald was the son of a rich man, who was proud of the boy,
and had all his life allowed him to do whatever he fancied, and,
luckily for the father, he was prudent and sensible, and did not
waste money, as many other rich young men might have done. For
some time he had set his heart on travelling into foreign
countries, and after he had been talking for a little while to
Rosald, he asked if his new friend would be his companion on his
journey.
'Be sure you keep the promise you made to Geirald,' said she, as
she bade him good-bye, 'and, come what may, see that you never
betray him.'
Full of joy Rosald rode off, and the next day he and Geirald
started off to seek adventures. To their disappointment their
own land was so well governed that nothing out of the common was
very likely to happen, but directly they crossed the border into
another kingdom all seemed lawlessness and confusion.
They had not gone very far, when, riding across a mountain, they
caught a glimpse of several armed men hiding amongst some trees
in their path, and remembered suddenly some talk they had heard
of a band of twelve robbers who lay in wait for rich travellers.
The robbers were more like savage beasts than men, and lived
somewhere at the top of the mountain in caves and holes in the
ground. They were all called 'Hankur,' and were distinguished
one from another by the name of a colour--blue, grey, red, and so
on, except their chief, who was known as Hankur the Tall. All
this and more rushed into the minds of the two young men as they
saw the flash of their swords in the moonlight.
'Well, we might try that, and then we shall always have our
horses,' said Geirald. So they went up the rocks silently and
carefully.
The robbers were lying all ready, expecting every moment to see
their victims coming round the corner a few yards away, when a
shower of huge stones fell on their heads, killing half the band.
The others sprang up the rock, but as they reached the top the
sword of Rosald swung round, and one man after another rolled
down into the valley. At last the chief managed to spring up,
and, grasping Rosald by the waist, flung away his sword, and the
two fought desperately, their bodies swaying always nearer the
edge. It seemed as if Rosald, being the smaller of the two, MUST
fall over, when, with his left hand, he drew the robber's sword
out of its sheath and plunged it into his heart. Then he took
from the dead man a beautiful ring set with a large stone, and
put it on his own finger.
The fame of this wonderful deed soon spread through the country,
and people would often stop Geirald's horse, and ask leave to see
the robber's ring, which was said to have been stolen from the
father of the reigning king. And Geirald showed them the ring
with pride, and listened to their words of praise, and no one
would ever have guessed anyone else had destroyed the robbers.
In a few days they left the kingdom and rode on to another, where
they thought they would stop through the remainder of the winter,
for Geirald liked to be comfortable, and did not care about
travelling through ice and snow. But the king would only grant
them leave to stop on condition that, before the winter was
ended, they should give him some fresh proof of the courage of
which he had heard so much. Rosald's heart was glad at the
king's message, and as for Geirald, he felt that as long as
Rosald was there all would go well. So they both bowed low and
replied that it was the king's place to command and theirs to
obey.
'Well, then,' said his Majesty, 'this is what I want you to do:
In the north-east part of my kingdom there dwells a giant, who
has an iron staff twenty yards long, and he is so quick in using
it, that even fifty knights have no chance against him. The
bravest and strongest young men of my court have fallen under the
blows of that staff; but, as you overcame the twelve robbers so
easily, I feel that I have reason to hope that you may be able to
conquer the giant. In three days from this you will set out.'
'How can we possibly fight against a giant that has killed fifty
knights?' cried Geirald, when they were outside the castle. 'The
king only wants to get rid of us! He won't think about us for the
next three days--that is one comfort--so we shall have plenty of
time to cross the borders of the kingdom and be out of reach.'
'We mayn't be able to kill the giant, but we certainly can't run
away till we have tried,' answered Rosald. 'Besides, think how
glorious it will be if we DO manage to kill him! I know what sort
of weapon I shall use. Come with me now, and I will see about
it.' And, taking his friend by the arm, he led him into a shop
where he bought a huge lump of solid iron, so big that they could
hardly lift it between them. However, they just managed to carry
it to a blacksmith's where Rosald directed that it should be
beaten into a thick club, with a sharp spike at one end. When
this was done to his liking he took it home under his arm.
Very early on the third morning the two young men started on
their journey, and on the fourth day they reached the giant's
cave before he was out of bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps,
the giant got up and went to the entrance to see who was coming,
and Rosald, expecting something of the sort, struck him such a
blow on the forehead that he fell to the ground. Then, before he
could rise to his feet again, Rosald drew out his sword and cut
off his head.
'It was not so difficult after all, you see,' he said, turning to
Geirald. And placing the giant's head in a leathern wallet which
was slung over his back, they began their journey to the castle.
As they drew near the gates, Rosald took the head from the wallet
and handed it to Geirald, whom he followed into the king's
presence.
'The giant will trouble you no more,' said Geirald, holding out
the head. And the king fell on his neck and kissed him, and
cried joyfully that he was the 'bravest knight in all the world,
and that a feast should be made for him and Rosald, and that the
great deed should be proclaimed throughout the kingdom.' And
Geirald's heart swelled with pride, and he almost forgot that it
was Rosald and not he, who had slain the giant.
She was now old enough to govern her own kingdom, but her
subjects did not like being ruled by a woman, and said that she
must find a husband to help her in managing her affairs. Prince
after prince had offered himself, but the young queen would have
nothing to say to any of them, and at last told her ministers
that if she was to have a husband at all she must choose him for
herself, as she would certainly not marry any of those whom they
had selected for her. The ministers replied that in that case
she had better manage her kingdom alone, and the queen, who knew
nothing about business, got things into such a confusion that at
last she threw them up altogether, and went off to her uncle.
Now when she heard how the two young men had slain the giant, her
heart was filled with admiration of their courage, and she
declared that if a feast was held she would certainly be present
at it.
And so she was; and when the feast was over she asked the king,
her guardian, if he would allow the two heroes who had killed the
robbers and slain the giant to fight a tourney the next day with
one of her pages. The king gladly gave his consent, and ordered
the lists to be made ready, never doubting that two great
champions would be eager for such a chance of adding to their
fame. Little did he guess that Geirald had done all he could to
persuade Rosald to steal secretly out of the castle during the
night, 'for,' said he, 'I don't believe they are pages at all,
but well-proved knights, and how can we, so young and untried,
stand up against them?'
'The honour will be all the higher if we gain the day,' answered
Rosald; but Geirald would listen to nothing, and only declared
that he did not care about honour, and would rather be alive than
have every honour in the world heaped upon him. Go he would, and
as Rosald had sworn to give him his company, he must come with
him.
Rosald was much grieved when he heard these words, but he knew
that it was useless attempting to persuade Geirald, and turned
his thoughts to forming some plan to prevent this disgraceful
flight. Suddenly his face brightened. 'Let us change clothes,'
he said, 'and I will do the fighting, while you shall get the
glory. Nobody will ever know.' And to this Geirald readily
consented.
'You have done what I expected you to do,' said he, 'and now,
choose your reward.'
'Grant me, sire, the hand of the queen, your niece,' replied the
young man, bowing low, 'and I will defend her kingdom against all
her enemies.'
'She could choose no better husband,' said the king, 'and if she
consents I do.' And he turned towards the queen, who had not
been present during the fight, but had just slipped into a seat
by his right hand. Now the queen's eyes were very sharp, and it
seemed to her that the man who stood before her, tall and
handsome though he might be, was different in many slight ways,
and in one in particular, from the man who had fought the
tourney. How there could be any trickery she could not
understand, and why the real victor should be willing to give up
his prize to another was still stranger; but something in her
heart warned her to be careful. She answered: 'You may be
satisfied, uncle, but I am not. One more proof I must have; let
the two young men now fight against each other. The man I marry
must be the man who killed the robbers and the giant, and
overcame my page.' Geirald's face grew pale as he heard these
words. He knew there was no escape from him now, though he did
not doubt for one moment that Rosald would keep his compact
loyally to the last. But how would it be possible that even
Rosald should deceive the watchful eyes of the king and his
court, and still more those of the young queen whom he felt
uneasily had suspected him from the first?
But Geirald did not even wait to see if he was wounded; he went
straight to the wall where the royal banner waved and claimed the
reward which was now his.
All night long Geirald walked about his room, not daring to face
the fight that lay in front of him, and trying with all his might
to discover some means of escaping it. All night long he moved
restlessly from door to window; and when the trumpets sounded,
and the combatants rode into the field, he alone was missing.
The king sent messengers to see what had become of him, and he
was found, trembling with fear, hiding under his bed. After that
there was no need of any further proof. The combat was declared
unnecessary, and the queen pronounced herself quite satisfied,
and ready to accept Rosald as her husband.
'You forgot one thing,' she said, when they were alone. 'I
recognized my father's ring which Hankur the Tall had stolen, on
the finger of your right hand, and I knew that it was you and not
Geirald who had slain the robber band. I was the page who fought
you, and again I saw the ring on your finger, though it was
absent from his when he stood before me to claim the prize. That
was why I ordered the combat between you, though your faith to
your word prevented my plan being successful, and I had to try
another. The man who keeps his promise at all costs to himself
is the man I can trust, both for myself and for my people.'
Habogi
Once upon a time there lived two peasants who had three
daughters, and, as generally happens, the youngest was the most
beautiful and the best tempered, and when her sisters wanted to
go out she was always ready to stay at home and do their work.
Years passed quickly with the whole family, and one day the
parents suddenly perceived that all three girls were grown up,
and that very soon they would be thinking of marriage.
'Have you decided what your husband's name is to be?' said the
father, laughingly, to his eldest daughter, one evening when they
were all sitting at the door of their cottage. 'You know that is
a very important point!'
'Yes; I will never wed any man who is not called Sigmund,'
answered she.
'Well, it is lucky for you that there are a great many Sigmunds
in this part of the world,' replied her father, 'so that you can
take your choice! And what do YOU say?' he added, turning to the
second.
'Then you won't be an old maid either,' answered he. 'There are
seven Sigurds in the next village alone! And you, Helga?'
Helga, who was still the prettiest of the three, looked up. She
also had her favourite name, but, just as she was going to say
it, she seemed to hear a voice whisper: 'Marry no one who is not
called Habogi.'
The girl had never heard of such a name, and did not like it, so
she determined to pay no attention; but as she opened her mouth
to tell her father that her husband must be called Njal, she
found herself answering instead: 'If I do marry it will be to no
one except Habogi.'
'Who IS Habogi?' asked her father and sisters; 'We never heard of
such a person.'
Before very long the young men who lived in the neighbouring
villages or on the sides of the mountains, had heard of this talk
of the three girls, and Sigmunds and Sigurds in scores came to
visit the little cottage. There were other young men too, who
bore different names, though not one of them was called 'Habogi,'
and these thought that they might perhaps gain the heart of the
youngest. But though there was more than one 'Njal' amongst
them, Helga's eyes seemed always turned another way.
At length the two elder sisters made their choice from out of the
Sigurds and the Sigmunds, and it was decided that both weddings
should take place at the same time. Invitations were sent out to
the friends and relations, and when, on the morning of the great
day, they were all assembled, a rough, coarse old peasant left
the crowd and came up to the brides' father.
'My name is Habogi, and Helga must be my wife,' was all he said.
And though Helga stood pale and trembling with surprise, she did
not try to run away.
'I cannot talk of such things just now,' answered the father, who
could not bear the thought of giving his favourite daughter to
this horrible old man, and hoped, by putting it off, that
something might happen. But the sisters, who had always been
rather jealous of Helga, were secretly pleased that their
bridegrooms should outshine hers.
When the feast was over, Habogi led up a beautiful horse from a
field where he had left it to graze, and bade Helga jump up on
its splendid saddle, all embroidered in scarlet and gold. 'You
shall come back again,' said he; 'but now you must see the house
that you are to live in.' And though Helga was very unwilling to
go, something inside her forced her to obey.
After some miles they rode through a meadow with grass so green
that Helga's eyes felt quite dazzled; and feeding on the grass
were a quantity of large fat sheep, with the curliest and whitest
wool in the world.
'Your Habogi's,' answered he, 'all that you see belongs to him;
but the finest sheep in the whole herd, which has little golden
bells hanging between its horns, you shall have for yourself.'
This pleased Helga very much, for she had never had anything of
her own; and she smiled quite happily as she thanked Habogi for
his present.
They soon left the sheep behind them, and entered a large field
with a river running through it, where a number of beautiful grey
cows were standing by a gate waiting for a milk-maid to come and
milk them.
'Oh, what lovely cows!' cried Helga again; 'I am sure their milk
must be sweeter than any other cows. How I should like to have
some! I wonder to whom they belong?'
'To your Habogi,' replied he; 'and some day you shall have as
much milk as you like, but we cannot stop now. Do you see that
big grey one, with the silver bells between her horns? That is
to be yours, and you can have her milked every morning the moment
you wake.'
And Helga's eyes shone, and though she did not say anything, she
thought that she would learn to milk the cow herself.
'Whose are they?' Oh! whose are they?' she asked. 'How happy any
man must be who is the master of such lovely creatures!'
'They are your Habogi's,' replied he, 'and the one which you
think the most beautiful of all you shall have for yourself, and
learn to ride him.'
'A horse of my own!' said she. 'Oh, stop one moment, and let me
see which I will choose. The white one? No. The chestnut? No.
I think, after all, I like the coal-black one best, with the
little white star on his forehead. Oh, do stop, just for a
minute.'
But Habogi would not stop or listen. 'When you are married you
will have plenty of time to choose one,' was all he answered, and
they rode on two or three miles further.
At length Habogi drew rein before a small house, very ugly and
mean-looking, and that seemed on the point of tumbling to pieces.
But when she got inside, she stood quite bewildered at the beauty
of all around her. None of her friends owned such things, not
even the miller, who was the richest man she knew. There were
carpets everywhere, thick and soft, and of deep rich colours; and
the cushions were of silk, and made you sleepy even to look at
them; and curious little figures in china were scattered about.
Helga felt as if it would take her all her life to see everything
properly, and it only seemed a second since she had entered the
house, when Habogi came up to her.
'I must begin the preparations for our wedding at once,' he said;
'but my foster-brother will take you home, as I promised. In
three days he will bring you back here, with your parents and
sisters, and any guests you may invite, in your company. By that
time the feast will be ready.'
Helga had so much to think about, that the ride home appeared
very short. Her father and mother were delighted to see her, as
they did not feel sure that so ugly and cross-looking a man as
Habogi might not have played her some cruel trick. And after
they had given her some supper they begged her to tell them all
she had done. But Helga only told them that they should see for
themselves on the third day, when they would come to her wedding.
It was very early in the morning when the party set out, and
Helga's two sisters grew green with envy as they passed the
flocks of sheep, and cows, and horses, and heard that the best of
each was given to Helga herself; but when they caught sight of
the poor little house which was to be her home their hearts grew
light again.
'She SHALL not look so much finer than us,' they cried
passionately to each other as soon as they were alone; and when
night came they stole out of their rooms, and taking out the
wedding-dress, they laid it in the ash-pit, and heaped ashes upon
it. But Habogi, who knew a little magic, and had guessed what
they would do, changed the ashes into roses, and cast a spell
over the sisters, so that they could not leave the spot for a
whole day, and every one who passed by mocked at them.
The next morning when they all awoke the ugly tumble-down house
had disappeared, and in its place stood a splendid palace. The
guests' eyes sought in vain for the bridegroom, but could only
see a handsome young man, with a coat of blue velvet and silver
and a gold crown upon his head.
They kept together for some time, till they reached a place where
the path they had been following split into two, and one of the
brothers called his dog and went to the left, while the others
took the trail to the right. These had not gone far when their
dogs scented a bear, and drove him out from the thicket. The
bear ran across a clearing, and the elder brother managed to
place an arrow right in his head.
They both took up the bear, and carried it towards home, meeting
the third at the spot where they had parted from him. When they
reached home they threw the bear down on the floor of the hut
saying,
'When I was a young man we used to get two bears in one day.'
'When I was a young man I used to get three bears in one day.'
The next day they were luckier than before, and brought back
three bears, on which their father told them that HE had always
killed four. However, that did not prevent him from skinning the
bears and cooking them in a way of his own, which he thought very
good, and they all ate an excellent supper.
Now these bears were the servants of the great bear chief who
lived in a high mountain a long way off. And every time a bear
was killed his shadow returned to the house of the bear chief,
with the marks of his wounds plainly to bee seen by the rest.
The chief was furious at the number of bears the hunters had
killed, and determined that he would find some way of destroying
them. So he called another of his servants, and said to him:
'Go to the thicket near the fork, where the boys killed your
brothers, and directly they or the dogs see you return here as
fast as ever you can. The mountain will open to let you in, and
the hunters will follow you. Then I shall have them in my power,
and be able to revenge myself.'
The servant bowed low, and started at once for the fork, where he
hid himself in the bushes.
By-and-by the boys came in sight, but this time there were only
two of them, as the youngest had stayed at home. The air was
warm and damp, and the snow soft and slushy, and the elder
brother's bowstring hung loose, while the bow of the younger
caught in a tree and snapped in half. At that moment the dogs
began to bark loudly, and the bear rushed out of the thicket and
set off in the direction of the mountain. Without thinking that
they had nothing to defend themselves with, should the bear turn
and attack them, the boys gave chase. The bear, who knew quite
well that he could not be shot, sometimes slackened his pace and
let the dogs get quite close; and in this way the elder son
reached the mountain without observing it, while his brother, who
had hurt his foot, was still far behind.
As he ran up, the mountain opened to admit the bear, and the boy,
who was close on his heels, rushed in after him, and did not know
where he was till he saw bears sitting on every side of him,
holding a council. The animal he had been chasing sank panting
in their midst, and the boy, very much frightened, stood still,
letting his bow fall to the ground.
'Why are you trying to kill all my servants?' asked the chief.
'Look round and see their shades, with arrows sticking in them.
It was I who told the bear to-day how he was to lure you into my
power. I shall take care that you shall not hurt my people any
more, because you will become a bear yourself.'
At this moment the second brother came up--for the mountain had
been left open on purpose to tempt him also--and cried out
breathlessly: 'Don't you see that the bear is lying close to you?
Why don't you shoot him?' And, without waiting for a reply,
pressed forward to drive his arrow into the heart of the bear.
But the elder one caught his raised arm, and whispered: 'Be
quiet! can't you tell where you are?' Then the boy looked up and
saw the angry bears about him. On the one side were the servants
of the chief, and on the other the servants of the chief's
sister, who was sorry for the two youths, and begged that their
lives might be spared. The chief answered that he would not kill
them, but only cast a spell over them, by which their heads and
bodies should remain as they were, but their arms and legs should
change into those of a bear, so that they would go on all fours
for the rest of their lives. And, stooping over a spring of
water, he dipped a handful of moss in it and rubbed it over the
arms and legs of the boys. In an instant the transformation took
place, and two creatures, neither beast nor human stood before
the chief.
Now the bear chief of course knew that the boys' father would
seek for his sons when they did not return home, so he sent
another of his servants to the hiding-place at the fork of the
trail to see what would happen. He had not waited long, when the
father came in sight, stooping as he went to look for his sons'
tracks in the snow. When he saw the marks of snow-shoes along
the path on the right he was filled with joy, not knowing that
the servant had made some fresh tracks on purpose to mislead him;
and he hastened forward so fast that he fell headlong into a pit,
where the bear was sitting. Before he could pick himself up the
bear had quietly broken his neck, and, hiding the body under the
snow, sat down to see if anyone else would pass that way.
Meanwhile the mother at home was wondering what had become of her
two sons, and as the hours went on, and their father never
returned, she made up her mind to go and look for him. The
youngest boy begged her to let him undertake the search, but she
would not hear of it, and told him he must stay at home and take
care of his sister. So, slipping on her snow-shoes, she started
on her way.
As no fresh snow had fallen, the trail was quite easy to find,
and she walked straight on, till it led her up to the pit where
the bear was waiting for her. He grasped her as she fell and
broke her neck, after which he laid her in the snow beside her
husband, and went back to tell the bear chief.
Hour after hour dragged heavily by in the forest hut, and at last
the brother and sister felt quite sure that in some way or other
all the rest of the family had perished. Day after day the boy
climbed to the top of a tall tree near the house, and sat there
till he was almost frozen, looking on all sides through the
forest openings, hoping that he might see someone coming along.
Very soon all the food in the house was eaten, and he knew he
would have to go out and hunt for more. Besides, he wished to
seek for his parents.
The little girl did not like being left alone in the hut, and
cried bitterly; but her brother told her that there was no use
sitting down quietly to starve, and that whether he found any
game or not he would certainly be back before the following
night. Then he cut himself some arrows, each from a different
tree, and winged with the feathers of four different birds. He
then made himself a bow, very light and strong, and got down his
snow-shoes. All this took some time, and he could not start that
day, but early next morning he called his little dog Redmouth,
whom he kept in a box, and set out.
After he had followed the trail for a great distance he grew very
tired, and sat upon the branch of a tree to rest. But Redmouth
barked so furiously that the boy thought that perhaps his parents
might have been killed under its branches, and stepping back,
shot one of his arrows at the root of the tree. Whereupon a
noise like thunder shook it from top to bottom, fire broke out,
and in a few minutes a little heap of ashes lay in the place
where it had stood.
Now, as was plain by his being able to change the shape of the
two brothers, the bear chief knew a good deal of magic, and he
was quite aware that the little boy was following the trail, and
he sent a very small but clever bear servant to wait for him in
the bushes and to try to tempt him into the mountain. But
somehow his spells could not have worked properly that day, as
the bear chief did not know that Redmouth had gone with his
master, or he would have been more careful. For the moment the
dog ran round the bushes barking loudly, the little bear servant
rushed out in a fright, and set out for the mountains as fast as
he could.
The dog followed the bear, and the boy followed the dog, until
the mountain, the house of the great bear chief, came in sight.
But along the road the snow was so wet and heavy that the boy
could hardly get along, and then the thong of his snow-shoes
broke, and he had to stop and mend it, so that the bear and the
dog got so far ahead that he could scarcely hear the barking.
When the strap was firm again the boy spoke to his snow-shoes and
said:
'Now you must go as fast as you can, or, if not, I shall lose the
dog as well as the bear.' And the snow-shoes sang in answer that
they would run like the wind.
As he came along, the bear chief's sister was looking out of the
window, and took pity on this little brother, as she had on the
two elder ones, and waited to see what the boy would do, when he
found that the bear servant and the dog had already entered the
mountain.
The little brother was certainly very much puzzled at not seeing
anything of either of the animals, which had vanished suddenly
out of his sight. He paused for an instant to think what he
should do next, and while he did so he fancied he heard
Redmouth's voice on the opposite side of the mountain. With
great difficulty he scrambled over steep rocks, and forced a path
through tangled thickets; but when he reached the other side the
sound appeared to start from the place from which he had come.
Then he had to go all the way back again, and at the very top,
where he stopped to rest, the barking was directly beneath him,
and he knew in an instant where he was and what had happened.
'Let my dog out at once, bear chief!' cried he. 'If you do not,
I shall destroy your palace.' But the bear chief only laughed,
and said nothing. The boy was very angry at his silence, and
aiming one of his arrows at the bottom of the mountain, shot
straight through it.
As the arrow touched the ground a rumbling was heard, and with a
roar a fire broke out which seemed to split the whole mountain
into pieces. The bear chief and all his servants were burnt up
in the flames, but his sister and all that belonged to her were
spared because she had tried to save the two elder boys from
punishment.
As soon as the fire had burnt itself out the little hunter
entered what was left of the mountain, and the first thing he saw
was his two brothers--half bear, half boy.
'Oh, help us! help us!' cried they, standing on their hind legs
as they spoke, and stretching out their fore-paws to him.
The heart of the bear chief's sister was moved when she saw their
misery, and she came gently up behind, and whispered:
'Little boy, gather some moss from the spring over there, and let
your brothers smell it.'
With a bound all three were at the spring, and as the youngest
plucked a handful of wet moss, the two others sniffed at it with
all their might. Then the bearskin fell away from them, and they
stood upright once more.
'How can we thank you? how can we thank you?' they stammered,
hardly able to speak; and fell at her feet in gratitude. But the
bear's sister only smiled, and bade them go home and look after
the little girl, who had no one else to protect her.
And this the boys did, and took such good care of their sister
that, as she was very small, she soon forgot that she had ever
had a father and mother.
Far way, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and woman
who had two children, a son named Koane and a daughter called
Thakane.
Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents worked
hard in the fields, resting, when the sun was high, under the
shade of some tree. While they were absent the little girl kept
house alone, for her brother always got up before the dawn, when
the air was fresh and cool, and drove out the cattle to the
sweetest patches of grass he could find.
One day, when Koane had slept later than usual, his father and
mother went to their work before him, and there was only Thakane
to be seen busy making the bread for supper.
'Oh, Koane,' cried his sister, 'you know that we are forbidden to
touch that tree. What would father say when he came home? For
he would be sure to know.'
After a while Thakane said to him: 'It is getting hot, had you
better drive out the cattle now?'
But Koane only answered sulkily: 'I told you I am not going to
drive them out at all. If I have to do without milk, they shall
do without grass.'
Thakane did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey her
parents, who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts would be
sure to suffer if they were kept in, and she would perhaps be
beaten for that too. So at last she took an axe and a tiny
earthen bowl, she cut a very small hole in the side of Koumongoe,
and out gushed enough milk to fill the bowl.
'Here is the milk you wanted,' said she, going up to Koane, who
was still sulking in his corner.
'Koane! Koane!' cried she, 'come and help me to plug up the hole.
There will be no milk left for our father and mother.' But Koane
could not stop it any more than Thakane, and soon the milk was
flowing through the hut downhill towards their parents in the
fields below.
The man saw a white stream a long way off, and guessed what had
happened.
Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of their
hands and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they done
this, than Koumongoe flowed back again up the hill, and entered
the hut.
'It was Koane's fault,' answered Thakane. 'He would not take the
cattle to feed until he drank some of the milk from Koumongoe.
So, as I did not know what else to do, I gave it to him.'
They were passing along some fields where the corn was ripening,
when a rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet, and standing on
its hind legs, it sang:
'You had better ask her,' replied the man, 'she is old enough to
give you an answer.'
But the father paid no heed to what the rabbit said, and only
walked on the faster, bidding Thakane to keep close behind him.
By-and-by they met with a troop of great deer, called elands, and
they stopped when they saw Thakane and sang:
'You had better ask her, replied the man, 'she is old enough to
give you an answer.'
And the elands all cried: 'Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre
should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.'
By this time it was nearly dark, and the father said they could
travel no further that night, and must go to sleep where they
were. Thakane was thankful indeed when she heard this, for she
was very tired, and found the two skins fastened round her almost
too heavy to carry. So, in spite of her dread of the ogre, she
slept till dawn, when her father woke her, and told her roughly
that he was ready to continue their journey.
Crossing the plain, the girl and her father passed a herd of
gazelles feeding. They lifted their heads, wondering who was out
so early, and when they caught sight of Thakane, they sang:
Why do you give to the ogre Your child, so fair, so fair?
'You had better ask her, replied the man, 'she is old enough to
answer for herself.'
And the gazelles all cried: 'Wretched man! it is you whom the
ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.'
At last they arrived at the village where the ogre lived, and
they went straight to his hut. He was nowhere to be seen, but in
his place was his son Masilo, who was not an ogre at all, but a
very polite young man. He ordered his servants to bring a pile
of skins for Thakane to sit on, but told her father he must sit
on the ground. Then, catching sight of the girl's face, which
she had kept down, he was struck by its beauty, and put the same
question that the rabbit, and the elands, and the gazelles had
done.
Now Masilo had fallen in loved with Thakane the moment he saw
her. At first he did not know what to make of this strange
feeling, for all his life he had hated women, and had refused
several brides whom his parents had chosen for him. However,
they were so anxious that he should marry, that they willingly
accepted Thakane as their daughter-in-law, though she did bring
any marriage portion with her.
After some time a baby was born to her, and Thakane thought it
was the most beautiful baby that ever was seen. But when her
mother-in-law saw it was a girl, she wrung her hands and wept,
saying:
'O miserable mother! Miserable child! Alas for you! why were you
not a boy!'
Then Thakane clasped the baby tightly in her arms, and cried:
That night, when everyone in the hut was asleep, Thakane rose,
and carrying her baby on her back, went down to a place where the
river spread itself out into a large lake, with tall willows all
round the bank. Here, hidden from everyone, she sat down on a
stone and began to think what she should do to save her child.
Suddenly she heard a rustling among the willows, and an old woman
appeared before her.
And Thakane answered: 'I was crying for my baby--I cannot hide
her for ever, and if the ogre sees her, he will eat her; and I
would rather she was drowned than that.'
'What you say is true,' replied the old woman. 'Give me your
child, and let me take care of it. And if you will fix a day to
meet me here I will bring the baby.'
Then Thakane dried her eyes, and gladly accepted the old woman's
offer. When she got home she told her husband she had thrown it
in the river, and as he had watched her go in that direction he
never thought of doubting what she said.
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father
Masilo cast out!
And in a moment the old woman appeared holding the baby in her
arms. Dilah had become so big and strong, that Thakane's heart
was filled with joy and gratitude, and she stayed as long as she
dared, playing with her baby. At last she felt she must return
to the village, lest she should be missed, and the child was
handed back to the old woman, who vanished with her into the
lake.
Children grow up very quickly when they live under water, and in
less time than anyone could suppose, Dilah had changed from a
baby to a woman. Her mother came to visit her whenever she was
able, and one day, when they were sitting talking together, they
were spied out by a man who had come to cut willows to weave into
baskets. He was so surprised to see how like the face of the
girl was to Masilo, that he left his work and returned to the
village.
When he heard this, Masilo tried to look shocked because his wife
had broken the law; but in his heart he was very glad.
'But what shall we do now?' asked he.
For some days Thakane stayed quietly at home, and her husband
began to think that the man had been mistaken; but at last she
said to her husband: 'I am going to bathe in the river.'
'Well, you can go,' answered he. But he ran down quickly by
another path, and got there first, and hid himself in the bushes.
An instant later, Thakane arrived, and standing on the bank, she
sang:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father
Masilo cast out!
Then the old woman came out of the water, holding the girl, now
tall and slender, by the hand. And as Masilo looked, he saw that
she was indeed his daughter, and he wept for joy that she was not
lying dead in the bottom of the lake. The old woman, however,
seemed uneasy, and said to Thakane: 'I feel as if someone was
watching us. I will not leave the girl to-day, but will take her
back with me'; and sinking beneath the surface, she drew the girl
after her. After they had gone, Thakane returned to the village,
which Masilo had managed to reach before her.
All the rest of the day he sat in a corner weeping, and his
mother who came in asked: 'Why are you weeping so bitterly, my
son?'
'My head aches,' he answered; 'it aches very badly.' And his
mother passed on, and left him alone.
'I don't know what you are talking about,' replied Thakane. 'I
buried my child under the sand on the beach.'
Then Masilo implored her to give the child back to him; but she
would not listen, and only answered: 'If I were to give her back
you would only obey the laws of your country and take her to your
father, the ogre, and she would be eaten.'
But Masilo promised that he would never let his father see her,
and that now she was a woman no one would try to hurt her; so
Thakane's heart melted, and she went down to the lake to consult
the old woman.
'What am I to do?' she asked, when, after clapping her hands, the
old woman appeared before her. 'Yesterday Masilo beheld Dilah,
and ever since he has entreated me to give him back his
daughter.'
'If I let her go he must pay me a thousand head of cattle in
exchange,' replied the old woman. And Thakane carried her answer
back to Masilo.
'Why, I would gladly give her two thousand!' cried he, 'for she
has saved my daughter.' And he bade messengers hasten to all the
neighbouring villages, and tell his people to send him at once
all the cattle he possessed. When they were all assembled he
chose a thousand of the finest bulls and cows, and drove them
down to the river, followed by a great crowd wondering what would
happen.
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father
Masilo cast out!
And Dilah came from the waters holding out her hands to Masilo
and Thakane, and in her place the cattle sank into the lake, and
were driven by the old woman to the great city filled with
people, which lies at the bottom.
'Was that you I heard walking about just now?' he asked, for
wolverines are cautious animals, and always like to know the
reasons of things.
'No, certainly not,' answered the rock; 'I don't know how to
walk.'
'I am afraid that you were not taught to speak the truth,'
retorted the rock.
'You need not speak like that, for I have SEEN you walking,'
replied the wolverine, 'though I am quite sure that you could
never catch ME!' and he ran a little distance and then stopped to
see if the rock was pursuing him; but, to his vexation, the rock
was still in the same place. Then the wolverine went up close,
and struck the rock a blow with his paw, saying: 'Well, will you
catch me NOW?'
And the wolverine laughed and said: 'Oh, that will do just as
well'; and began to run down the side of the mountain.
At first he went quite slowly, 'just to give the rock a chance,'
he thought to himself; but soon he quickened his pace, for he
found that the rock was almost at his heels. But the faster the
wolverine ran, the faster the rock rolled, and by-and-by the
little creature began to get very tired, and was sorry he had not
left the rock to itself. Thinking that if he could manage to put
on a spurt he would reach the forest of great trees at the bottom
of the mountain, where the rock could not come, he gathered up
all his strength, and instead of running he leaped over sticks
and stones, but, whatever he did, the rock was always close
behind him. At length he grew so weary that he could not even
see where he was going, and catching his foot in a branch he
tripped and fell. The rock stopped at once, but there came a
shriek from the wolverine:
'Get off, get off! can't you see that you are on my legs?'
'Why did you not leave me alone?' asked the rock. 'I did not
want to move--I hate moving. But you WOULD have it, and I
certainly sha'n't move now till I am forced to.'
'How DID you get under that rock?' asked they, making a ring
round him; but they had to repeat their question several times
before the wolverine would answer, for he, like many other
persons, found it hard to confess that he had brought his
troubles on himself.
'Well, I was dull, and wanted someone to play with me,' he said
at last, in sulky voice, 'and I challenged the rock to catch me.
Of course I thought I could run the fastest; but I tripped, and
it rolled on me. It was just an accident.'
'It serves you right for being so silly,' said they; but they
pushed and hauled at the rock for a long time without making it
move an inch.
'You are no good at all,' cried the wolverine crossly, for it was
suffering great pain, 'and if you cannot get me free, I shall see
what my friends the lightning and thunder can do.' And he called
loudly to the lightning to come and help him as quickly as
possible.
In a few minutes a dark cloud came rolling up the sky, giving out
such terrific claps of thunder that the wolves and the foxes and
all the other creatures ran helter-skelter in all directions.
But, frightened though they were, they did not forget to beg the
lightning to take off the wolverine's coat and to free his legs,
but to be careful not to hurt him. So the lightning disappeared
into the cloud for a moment to gather up fresh strength, and then
came rushing down, right upon the rock, which it sent flying in
all directions, and took the wolverine's coat so neatly that,
though it was torn into tiny shreds, the wolverine himself was
quite unharmed.
'With pleasure,' she answered, for she had always been taught to
be polite; and getting her needle and thread she began to fit the
pieces. But though she was very good-natured, she was not very
clever, and she got some of the bits wrong. When the wolverine,
who was very particular about his clothes, came to put it on, he
grew very angry.
'What a useless creature you are!' cried he. 'Do you expect me
to go about in such a coat as that? Why it bulges all down the
back, as if I had a hump, and it is so tight across the chest
that I expect it to burst every time I breathe. I knew you were
stupid, but I did not think you were as stupid as that.' And
giving the poor frog a blow on her head, which knocked her
straight into the water, he walked off in a rage to his younger
sister the mouse.
'I tore my coat this morning,' he began, when he had found her
sitting at the door of her house eating an apple. 'It was all in
little bits, and I took it to our sister the frog to ask her to
sew it for me. But just look at the way she has done it! You
will have to take it to pieces and fit them together properly,
and I hope I shall not have to complain again.' For as the
wolverine was older than the mouse, he was accustomed to speak to
her in this manner. However, the mouse was used to it and only
answered: 'I think you had better stay here till it is done, and
if there is any alteration needed I can make it.' So the
wolverine sat down on a heap of dry ferns, and picking up the
apple, he finished it without even asking the mouse's leave.
At last the coat was ready, and the wolverine put it on.
'Yes, it fits very well,' said he, 'and you have sewn it very
neatly. When I pass this way again I will bring you a handful of
corn, as a reward'; and he ran off as smart as ever, leaving the
mouse quite grateful behind him.
The bear turned round and saw the wolverine, and murmuring to
herself, so low that nobody could hear, 'I never heard before
that I had a brother,' got up and ran quickly to a tree, up which
she climbed. Now the wolverine was very angry when he saw his
dinner vanishing in front of him, especially as HE could not
climb trees like the bear, so he followed, and stood at the foot
of the tree, shrieking as loud as he could, 'Come down, sister;
our father has sent me to look for you! You were lost when you
were a little girl and went out picking berries, and it was only
the other day that we heard from a beaver where you were.' At
these words, the bear came a little way down the tree, and the
wolverine, seeing this, went on:
'Are you not fond of berries? I am! And I know a place where
they grow so thick the ground is quite hidden. Why, look for
yourself! That hillside is quite red with them!'
'I can't see so far,' answered the bear, now climbing down
altogether. 'You must have wonderfully good eyes! I wish I had;
but my sight is very short.'
It took the bear a long while to gather the berries, for she was
slow about everything, and, besides, it made her back ache to
stoop. But at last she returned with a sackful, and put them
down beside the wolverine. 'That is splendid, sister!' cried the
wolverine. 'Now lie flat on the ground with your head on this
stone, while I smash them.'
The bear, who was very tired, was only too glad to do as she was
bid, and stretched herself comfortably on the grass.
'I am ready now,' said the wolverine after a bit; 'just at first
you will find that the berries make your eyes smart, but you must
be careful not to move, or the juice will run out, and then it
will have to be done all over again.'
So the bear promised to lie very still; but the moment the
cranberries touched her eyes she sprang up with a roar.
'Oh, you mustn't mind a little pain,' said the wolverine, 'it
will soon be over, and then you will see all sorts of things you
have never dreamt of.' The bear sank down with a groan, and as
her eyes were full of cranberry juice, which completely blinded
her, the wolverine took up a sharp knife and stabbed her to the
heart.
Then he took off the skin, and, stealing some fire from a tent,
which his sharp eyes had perceived hidden behind a rock, he set
about roasting the bear bit by bit. He thought the meat was the
best he ever had tasted, and when dinner was done he made up his
mind to try that same trick again, if ever he was hungry.
Once upon a time there lived in Japan a rat and his wife who came
of an old and noble race, and had one daughter, the loveliest
girl in all the rat world. Her parents were very proud of her,
and spared no pains to teach her all she ought to know. There
was not another young lady in the whole town who was as clever as
she was in gnawing through the hardest wood, or who could drop
from such a height on to a bed, or run away so fast if anyone was
heard coming. Great attention, too, was paid to her personal
appearance, and her skin shone like satin, while her teeth were
as white as pearls, and beautifully pointed.
But here a difficulty arose. The father was a rat from the tip
of his nose to the end of his tail, outside as well as in, and
desired that his daughter should wed among her own people. She
had no lack of lovers, but her father's secret hopes rested on a
fine young rat, with moustaches which almost swept the ground,
whose family was still nobler and more ancient than his own.
Unluckily, the mother had other views for her precious child.
She was one of those people who always despise their own family
and surroundings, and take pleasure in thinking that they
themselves are made of finer material than the rest of the world.
'HER daughter should never marry a mere rat,' she declared,
holding her head high. 'With her beauty and talents she had a
right to look for someone a little better than THAT.'
Many were the quarrels which the old rat and his wife had upon
the subject, and sometimes they bore on their faces certain marks
which looked as if they had not kept to words only.
'Reach up to the stars is MY motto,' cried the lady one day, when
she was in a greater passion than usual. 'My daughter's beauty
places her higher than anything upon earth,' she cried; 'and I am
certainly not going to accept a son-in-law who is beneath her.'
'Well, I WAS thinking of it,' replied the wife, 'and as you are
of the same mind, we will pay him a visit to-morrow.'
So the next morning, the two rats, having spent hours in making
themselves smart, set out to see the sun, leading their daughter
between them.
The journey took some time, but at length they came to the golden
palace where the sun lived.
'I feel very much flattered,' replied the sun, who was so busy
that he had not the least wish to marry anybody. 'You do me
great honour by your proposal. Only, in one point you are
mistaken, and it would be wrong of me to take advantage of your
ignorance. There is something greater than I am, and that is the
cloud. Look!' And as he spoke a cloud spread itself over the
sun's face, blotting out his rays.
'Oh, well, we will speak to the cloud,' said the mother. And
turning to the cloud she repeated her proposal.
And she DID see, for catching up the cloud as he passed, he threw
it on the other side of the sky. Then, tumbling father, mother
and daughter down to the earth again, he paused for a moment
beside them, his foot on an old wall.
When she had recovered her breath, the mother began her little
speech once more.
'The wall is the proper husband for your daughter,' answered the
wind, whose home consisted of a cave, which he only visited when
he was not rushing about elsewhere; 'you can see for yourself
that he is greater than I, for he has power to stop me in my
flight.' And the mother, who did not trouble to conceal her
wishes, turned at once to the wall.
And the wall, rather hurt in his feelings, declared that he had
no claim to be the husband of so beautiful a girl.
'It is quite true,' he said, 'that I can stop the wind who can
part the clouds who can cover the sun; but there is someone who
can do more than all these, and that is the rat. It is the rat
who passes through me, and can reduce me to powder, simply with
his teeth. If, therefore, you want a son-in-law who is greater
than the whole world, seek him among the rats.'
'Ah, what did I tell you?' cried the father. And his wife,
though for the moment angry at being beaten, soon thought that a
rat son-in-law was what she had always desired.
[Contes Populaires.]
Long, long ago, there lived a king who ruled over a country by
the sea. When he had been married about a year, some of his
subjects, inhabiting a distant group of islands, revolted against
his laws, and it became needful for him to leave his wife and go
in person to settle their disputes. The queen feared that some
ill would come of it, and implored him to stay at home, but he
told her that nobody could do his work for him, and the next
morning the sails were spread, and the king started on his
voyage.
The vessel had not gone very far when she ran upon a rock, and
stuck so fast in a cleft that the strength of the whole crew
could not get her off again. To make matters worse, the wind was
rising too, and it was quite plain that in a few hours the ship
would be dashed to pieces and everybody would be drowned, when
suddenly the form of a mermaid was seen dancing on the waves
which threatened every moment to overwhelm them.
'There is only one way to free yourselves,' she said to the king,
bobbing up and down in the water as she spoke, 'and that is to
give me your solemn word that you will deliver to me the first
child that is born to you.'
So he promised, and this time a wave lifted the vessel clean off
the rocks, and she was in the open sea once more.
The affairs of the islands took longer to settle than the king
had expected, and some months passed away before he returned to
his palace. In his absence a son had been born to him, and so
great was his joy that he quite forgot the mermaid and the price
he had paid for the safety of his ship. But as the years went
on, and the baby grew into a fine big boy, the remembrance of it
came back, and one day he told the queen the whole story. From
that moment the happiness of both their lives was ruined. Every
night they went to bed wondering if they should find his room
empty in the morning, and every day they kept him by their sides,
expecting him to be snatched away before their very eyes.
At last the king felt that this state of things could not
continue, and he said to his wife:
'After all, the most foolish thing in the world one can do is to
keep the boy here in exactly the place in which the mermaid will
seek him. Let us give him food and send him on his travels, and
perhaps, if the mermaid ever blocs come to seek him, she may be
content with some other child.' And the queen agreed that his
plan seemed the wisest.
So the boy was called, and his father told him the story of the
voyage, as he had told his mother before him. The prince
listened eagerly, and was delighted to think that he was to go
away all by himself to see the world, and was not in the least
frightened; for though he was now sixteen, he had scarcely been
allowed to walk alone beyond the palace gardens. He began busily
to make his preparations, and took off his smart velvet coat,
putting on instead one of green cloth, while he refused a
beautiful bag which the queen offered him to hold his food, and
slung a leather knapsack over his shoulders instead, just as he
had seen other travellers do. Then he bade farewell to his
parents and went his way.
All through the day he walked, watching with interest the strange
birds and animals that darted across his path in the forest or
peeped at him from behind a bush. But as evening drew on he
became tired, and looked about as he walked for some place where
he could sleep. At length he reached a soft mossy bank under a
tree, and was just about to stretch himself out on it, when a
fearful roar made him start and tremble all over. In another
moment something passed swiftly through the air and a lion stood
before him.
'What are you doing here?' asked the lion, his eyes glaring
fiercely at the boy.
'Give me some food then,' said the lion, 'it is past my supper
time, and I am very hungry.'
The boy was so thankful that the lion did not want to eat him,
that he gladly picked up his knapsack which lay on the ground,
and held out some bread and a flask of wine.
'I feel better now,' said the lion when he had done, 'so now I
shall go to sleep on this nice soft moss, and if you like you can
lie down beside me.' So the boy and the lion slept soundly side
by side, till the sun rose.
'I must be off now,' remarked the lion, shaking the boy as he
spoke; 'but cut off the tip of my ear, and keep it carefully, and
if you are in any danger just wish yourself a lion and you will
become one on the spot. One good turn deserves another, you
know.'
The prince thanked him for his kindness, and did as he was bid,
and the two then bade each other farewell.
But before he had time to close his eyes there was a great noise
in the trees near by, as if a big heavy body was crashing through
them. The boy rose and turned his head, and saw a huge black
bear coming towards him.
'I am running away from the mermaid,' answered the boy; but the
bear took no interest in the mermaid, and only said: 'I am
hungry; give me something to eat.'
The knapsack was lying on the ground among the fern, but the
prince picked it up, and, unfastening the strap, took out his
second flask of wine and another loaf of bread. 'We will have
supper together,' he remarked politely; but the bear, who had
never been taught manners, made no reply, and ate as fast as he
could. When he had quite finished, he got up and stretched
himself.
'I must go now,' said the bear, pulling the sleepy prince on to
his feet; 'but first you shall cut off the tip of my ear, and
when you are in any danger just wish yourself a bear and you will
become one. One good turn deserves another, you know.' And the
boy did as he was bid, and he and the bear bade each other
farewell.
'I am running away from the mermaid,' replied the boy; but the
bee, like the lion and the bear, was one of those people who
never listen to the answers to their questions, and only said: 'I
am hungry. Give me something to eat.'
The boy took his last loaf and flask out of his knapsack and laid
them on the ground, and they had supper together. 'Well, now I
am going to sleep,' observed the bee when the last crumb was
gone, 'but as you are not very big I can make room for you beside
me,' and he curled up his wings, and tucked in his legs, and he
and the prince both slept soundly till morning. Then the bee got
up and carefully brushed every scrap of dust off his velvet coat
and buzzed loudly in the boy's ear to waken him.
'Take a single hair from one of my wings,' said he, 'and if you
are in danger just wish yourself a bee and you will become one.
One good turn deserves another, so farewell, and thank you for
your supper.' And the bee departed after the boy had pulled out
the hair and wrapped it carefully in a leaf.
He found the palace doors wide open and went boldly into a sort
of hall which was full of people, and where men and maids were
gossiping together. He joined their talk and soon learned from
them that the king had only one daughter who had such a hatred to
men that she would never suffer one to enter her presence. Her
father was in despair, and had had pictures painted of the
handsomest princes of all the courts in the world, in the hope
that she might fall in love with one of them; but it was no use;
the princess would not even allow the pictures to be brought into
her room.
At this dreadful sight the princess, who was broad awake, began
to scream loudly. 'A man! a man!' cried she; but when the guards
rushed in there was only a bumble-bee buzzing about the room.
They looked under the bed, and behind the curtains, and into the
cupboards, then came to the conclusion that the princess had had
a bad dream, and bowed themselves out. The door had scarcely
closed on them than the bee disappeared, and a handsome youth
stood in his place.
'I knew a man was hidden somewhere,' cried the princess, and
screamed more loudly than before. Her shrieks brought back the
guards, but though they looked in all kinds of impossible places
no man was to be seen, and so they told the princess.
'He was here a moment ago--I saw him with my own eyes,' and the
guards dared not contradict her, though they shook their heads
and whispered to each other that the princess had gone mad on
this subject, and saw a man in every table and chair. And they
made up their minds that--let her scream as loudly as she might--
they would take no notice.
Now the princess saw clearly what they were thinking, and that in
future her guards would give her no help, and would perhaps,
besides, tell some stories about her to the king, who would shut
her up in a lonely tower and prevent her walking in the gardens
among her birds and flowers. So when, for the third time, she
beheld the prince standing before her, she did not scream but sat
up in bed gazing at him in silent terror.
'Do not be afraid,' he said, 'I shall not hurt you'; and he began
to praise her gardens, of which he had heard the servants speak,
and the birds and flowers which she loved, till the princess's
anger softened, and she answered him with gentle words. Indeed,
they soon became so friendly that she vowed she would marry no
one else, and confided to him that in three days her father would
be off to the wars, leaving his sword in her room. If any man
could find it and bring it to him he would receive her hand as a
reward. At this point a cock crew, and the youth jumped up
hastily saying: 'Of course I shall ride with the king to the war,
and if I do not return, take your violin every evening to the
seashore and play on it, so that the very sea-kobolds who live at
the bottom of the ocean may hear it and come to you.'
Just as the princess had foretold, in three days the king set out
for the war with a large following, and among them was the young
prince, who had presented himself at court as a young noble in
search of adventures. They had left the city many miles behind
them, when the king suddenly discovered that he had forgotten his
sword, and though all his attendants instantly offered theirs, he
declared that he could fight with none but his own.
At this the Red Knight, the young prince, and several more turned
their horses to ride as fast as the wind back to the palace. But
suddenly a better plan entered the prince's head, and, letting
the others pass him, he took his precious parcel from his breast
and wished himself a lion. Then on he bounded, uttering such
dreadful roars that the horses were frightened and grew
unmanageable, and he easily outstripped them, and soon reached
the gates of the palace. Here he hastily changed himself into a
bee, and flew straight into the princess's room, where he became
a man again. She showed him where the sword hung concealed
behind a curtain, and he took it down, saying as he did so: 'Be
sure not to forget what you have promised to do.'
This soon came, for the day was hot and the prince was thirsty.
Perceiving a little stream that ran into the sea, he turned
aside, and, unbuckling the sword, flung himself on the ground for
a long drink. Unluckily, the mermaid happened at that moment to
be floating on the water not very far off, and knew he was the
boy who had been given her before he was born. So she floated
gently in to where he was lying, she seized him by the arm, and
the waves closed over them both. Hardly had they disappeared,
when the Red Knight stole cautiously up, and could hardly believe
his eyes when he saw the king's sword on the bank. He wondered
what had become of the youth, who an hour before had guarded his
treasure so fiercely; but, after all, that was no affair of his!
So, fastening the sword to his belt, he carried it to the king.
The war was soon over, and the king returned to his people, who
welcomed him with shouts of joy. But when the princess from her
window saw that her betrothed was not among the attendants riding
behind her father, her heart sank, for she knew that some evil
must have befallen him. and she feared the Red Knight. She had
long ago learned how clever and how wicked he was, and something
whispered to her that it was he who would gain the credit of
having carried back the sword, and would claim her as his bride,
though he had never even entered her chamber. And she could do
nothing; for although the king loved her, he never let her stand
in the way of his plans.
The poor princess was only too right, and everything came to pass
exactly as she had foreseen it. The king told her that the Red
Knight had won her fairly, and that the wedding would take place
next day, and there would be a great feast after it.
In those days feasts were much longer and more splendid than they
are now; and it was growing dark when the princess, tired out
with all she had gone through, stole up to her own room for a
little quiet. But the moon was shining so brightly over the sea
that it seemed to draw her towards it, and taking her violin
under her arm, she crept down to the shore.
'Listen! listen! said the mermaid to the prince, who was lying
stretched on a bed of seaweeds at the bottom of the sea.
'Listen! that is your old love playing, for mermaids know
everything that happens upon earth.'
'I hear nothing,' answered the youth, who did not look happy. '
Take me up higher, where the sounds can reach me.'
So the mermaid took him on her shoulders and bore him up midway
to the surface. 'Can you hear now?' she asked.
'No,' answered the prince, 'I hear nothing but the water rushing;
I must go higher still.'
Then the mermaid carried him to the very top. 'You must surely
be able to hear now?' said she.
'Nothing but the water,' repeated the youth. So she took him
right to the land.
'At any rate you can hear now?' she said again.
'The water is still rushing in my ears,' answered he; ' but wait
a little, that will soon pass off.' And as he spoke he put his
hand into his breast, and seizing the hair wished himself a bee,
and flew straight into the pocket of the princess. The mermaid
looked in vain for him, and coated all night upon the sea; but he
never came back, and never more did he gladden her eyes. But the
princess felt that something strange was about her, though she
knew not what, and returned quickly to the palace, where the
young man at once resumed his own shape. Oh, what joy filled her
heart at the sight of him! But there was no time to be lost, and
she led him right into the hall, where the king and his nobles
were still sitting at the feast. 'Here is a man who boasts that
he can do wonderful tricks,' said she, ' better even than the Red
Knight's! That cannot be true, of course, but it might be well to
give this impostor a lesson. He pretends, for instance, that he
can turn himself into a lion; but that I do not believe. I know
that you have studied the art of magic,' she went on, turning to
the Red Knight, 'so suppose you just show him how it is done, and
bring shame upon him.'
Now the Red Knight had never opened a book of magic in his life;
but he was accustomed to think that he could do everything better
than other people without any teaching at all. So he turned and
twisted himself about, and bellowed and made faces; but he did
not become a lion for all that.
'Try a bee,' suggested she. 'I have always read that anyone who
can do magic at all can do that.' And the old knight buzzed and
hummed, but he remained a man and not a bee.
'Now become a bear,' said she; and a bear advanced panting and
stretching out his arms to the Red Knight, who shrank behind the
princess.
By this time some of the guests had regained their courage, and
returned as far as the door, thinking that if it was safe for the
princess perhaps it was safe for them. The king, who was braver
than they, and felt it needful to set them a good example
besides, had never left his seat, and when at a new command of
the princess the bear once more turned into a man, he was silent
from astonishment, and a suspicion of the truth began to dawn on
him. 'Was it he who fetched the sword?' asked the king.
'Yes, it was,' answered the princess; and she told him the whole
story, and how she had broken her gold ring and given him half of
it. And the prince took out his half of the ring, and the
princess took out hers, and they fitted exactly. Next day the
Red Knight was hanged, as he richly deserved, and there was a new
marriage feast for the prince and princess.
[Lapplandische Mahrchen.]
'Oh!' cried the woman, 'what a state you are in! What have you
been doing?'
'It was Kabo who broke my leg at the slinging game,' said Pivi.
'Well, I am sorry for you,' said the woman; 'will you come with
me, and do what I tell you?'
'I will!' said Pivi, for the woman was very kind and pretty. She
took Pivi into a shed where she kept her fruit laid him on a bed
of mats, and made him as comfortable as she could, and attended
to his broken leg without cutting off the flesh round the bone,
as these people usually do.
'You will be still, won't you, Pivi?' she said. 'If you hear a
little noise you will pretend to be dead. It is the Black Ant
who will come and creep from your feet up to your head. Say
nothing, and keep quiet, won't you, Pivi?'
'Certainly, kind lady,' said Pivi, 'I will lie as still as can
be.'
'He will walk over your body up to your head. Then you must
shake all your body. Do you understand, Pivi?'
'Very good,' said the woman, going out and shutting the door.
Pivi lay still under his coverings, then a tiny noise was heard,
and the Black Ant began to march over Pivi, who lay quite still.
Then came the big Red Ant skipping along his body, and then Pivi
shook himself all over. He jumped up quite well again, he ran to
the river, he looked into the water and saw that he was changed
from a bird into a fine young man!
'Then climb up that cocoa-nut tree, with your legs only, not
using your hands,' said the woman.
Now the natives can run up cocoa-nut trees like squirrels, some
using only one hand; the girls can do that. But few can climb
without using their hands at all.
'At the top of the tree you will find two cocoa-nuts. You must
not throw them down, but carry them in your hands; and you must
descend as you went up, using your legs only.'
'I shall try, at least,' said Pivi. And up he went, but it was
very difficult, and down he came.
'Now, Pivi, put them in the shed where you lay, and when the sun
sets to cool himself in the sea and rise again not so hot in the
dawn you must go and take the nuts.'
All day Pivi played about in the river, as the natives do,
throwing fruit and silvery showers of water at each other. When
the sun set he went into the hut. But as he drew near he heard
sweet voices talking and laughing within.
Down he ran to the river. 'Oh, lady, my nuts have been stolen! '
he cried.
'Come with me, Pivi, and there will be nuts for you,' said the
woman.
They went back to the hut, where the girls were laughing and
playing.
'Nuts for you?' said the woman, 'there are two wives for you,
Pivi, take them to your house.'
'Oh, yes!' said Pivi. 'But I am much better looking, and there
are my two wives, are they not beautiful?'
'You are mocking me, Pivi! Your wives? How? Where did you get
them? You, with wives! '
Then Pivi told Kabo about the kind woman, and all the wonderful
things that had happened to him.
'With all the pleasure in life,' said Pivi, who was always ready
to oblige.
So they went slinging, and Pivi broke Kabo's leg, and Kabo fell
into the river, and floated into the bamboo, and the woman blew
him out, just as before. Then she picked up Kabo, and put him in
the shed, and told him what to do when the Black Ant came, and
what to do when the Red Ant came. But he didn't!
When the Black Ant came, he shook himself, and behold, he had a
twisted leg, and a hump back, and was as black as the ant.
'Look, what a figure I am!' he said; but she only told him to
climb the tree, as she had told Pivi.
But Kabo climbed with both hands and feet, and he threw down the
nuts, instead of carrying them down, and he put them in the hut.
And when he went back for them there he found two horrid old
black hags, wrangling, and scolding, and scratching! So back he
went to Pivi with his two beautiful wives, and Pivi was very
sorry, but what could he do? Nothing, but sit and cry.
So, one day, Kabo came and asked Pivi to sail in his canoe to a
place where he knew of a great big shell-fish, enough to feed on
for a week. Pivi went, and deep in the clear water they saw a
monstrous shell-fish, like an oyster, as big as a rock, with the
shell wide open.
'We shall catch it, and dry it, and kipper it,' said Pivi, 'and
give a dinner to all our friends!'
'I shall dive for it, and break it off the rock,' said Kabo, 'and
then you must help me to drag it up into the canoe.'
There the shell-fish lay and gaped, but Kabo, though he dived in,
kept well out of the way of the beast.
Up he came, puffing and blowing: ' Oh, Pivi,' he cried, 'I cannot
move it. Jump in and try yourself!'
Pivi dived, with his spear, and the shell-fish opened its shell
wider yet, and sucked, and Pivi disappeared into its mouth, and
the shell shut up with a snap!
'But dry your tears, my darlings,' said Kabo, 'I will be your
husband, and my wives shall be your slaves. Everything is for
the best, in the best of all possible worlds.'
'No, no!' cried the girls, 'we love Pivi. We do not love anyone
else. We shall stay at home, and weep for Pivi!'
Then a little cough was heard at the door, and Kabo trembled, for
he knew it was the cough of Pivi!
'Ah, dear Pivi!' cried Kabo, rushing to the door. 'What joy! I
was trying to console your dear wives.'
Pivi said not one word. He waved his hand, and five and twenty
of his friends came trooping down the hill. They cut up Kabo
into little pieces. Pivi turned round, and there was the good
woman of the river.
'Pivi,' she said, 'how did you get out of the living tomb into
which Kabo sent you?'
'I had my spear with me,' said Pivi. 'It was quite dry inside
the shell, and I worked away at the fish with my spear, till he
saw reason to open his shell, and out I came.' Then the good
woman laughed; and Pivi and his two wives lived happy ever
afterwards.
Once upon a time two young men living in a small village fell in
love with the same girl. During the winter, it was all night
except for an hour or so about noon, when the darkness seemed a
little less dark, and then they used to see which of them could
tempt her out for a sleigh ride with the Northern Lights flashing
above them, or which could persuade her to come to a dance in
some neighbouring barn. But when the spring began, and the light
grew longer, the hearts of the villagers leapt at the sight of
the sun, and a day was fixed for the boats to be brought out, and
the great nets to be spread in the bays of some islands that lay
a few miles to the north. Everybody went on this expedition, and
the two young men and the girl went with them.
They all sailed merrily across the sea chattering like a flock of
magpies, or singing their favourite songs. And when they reached
the shore, what an unpacking there was! For this was a noted
fishing ground, and here they would live, in little wooden huts,
till autumn and bad weather came round again.
The maiden and the two young men happened to share the same hut
with some friends, and fished daily from the same boat. And as
time went on, one of the youths remarked that the girl took less
notice of him than she did of his companion. At first he tried
to think that he was dreaming, and for a long while he kept his
eyes shut very tight to what he did not want to see, but in spite
of his efforts, the truth managed to wriggle through, and then
the young man gave up trying to deceive himself, and set about
finding some way to get the better of his rival.
The plan that he hit upon could not be carried out for some
months; but the longer the young man thought of it, the more
pleased he was with it, so he made no sign of his feelings, and
waited patiently till the moment came. This was the very day
that they were all going to leave the islands, and sail back to
the mainland for the winter. In the bustle and hurry of
departure, the cunning fisherman contrived that their boat should
be the last to put off, and when everything was ready, and the
sails about to be set, he suddenly called out:
'Oh, dear, what shall I do! I have left my best knife behind in
the hut. Run, like a good fellow, and get it for me, while I
raise the anchor and loosen the tiller.'
Not thinking any harm, the youth jumped back on shore and made
his way up the steep hank. At the door of the hut he stopped and
looked back, then started and gazed in horror. The head of the
boat stood out to sea, and he was left alone on the island.
Yes, there was no doubt of it--he was quite alone; and he had
nothing to help him except the knife which his comrade had
purposely dropped on the ledge of the window. For some minutes
he was too stunned by the treachery of his friend to think about
anything at all, but after a while he shook himself awake, and
determined that he would manage to keep alive somehow, if it were
only to revenge himself.
So he put the knife in his pocket and went off to a part of the
island which was not so bare as the rest, and had a small grove
of trees. :From one of these he cut himself a bow, which he
strung with a piece of cord that had been left lying about the
huts.
When this was ready the young man ran down to the shore and shot
one or two sea-birds, which he plucked and cooked for supper.
In this way the months slipped by, and Christmas came round
again. The evening before, the youth went down to the rocks and
into the copse, collecting all the drift wood the sea had washed
up or the gale had blown down, and he piled it up in a great
stack outside the door, so that he might not have to fetch any
all the next day. As soon as his task was done, he paused and
looked out towards the mainland, thinking of Christmas Eve last
year, and the merry dance they had had. The night was still and
cold, and by the help of the Northern Lights he could almost sea
across to the opposite coast, when, suddenly, he noticed a boat,
which seemed steering straight for the island. At first he could
hardly stand for joy, the chance of speaking to another man was
so delightful; but as the boat drew near there was something, he
could not tell what, that was different from the boats which he
had been used to all his life, and when it touched the shore he
saw that the people that filled it were beings of another world
than ours. Then he hastily stepped behind the wood stack, and
waited for what might happen next.
The strange folk one by one jumped on to the rocks, each bearing
a load of something that they wanted. Among the women he
remarked two young girls, more beautiful and better dressed than
any of the rest, carrying between them two great baskets full of
provisions. The young man peeped out cautiously to see what all
this crowd could be doing inside the tiny hut, but in a moment he
drew back again, as the girls returned, and looked about as if
they wanted to find out what sort of a place the island was.
Now the young man had a pin sticking in the sleeve of his jacket,
and the moment the girl's hand touched him she pricked it so
sharply that the blood came. The girl screamed so loudly that
the people all ran out of their huts to see what was the matter.
But directly they caught sight of the man they turned and fled in
the other direction, and picking up the goods they had brought
with them scampered as fast as they could down to the shore. In
an instant, boat, people, and goods had vanished completely.
'You will have to make me your wife,' she said at last, 'for you
have drawn my blood, and I belong to you.'
'Do not be anxious about that,' said the girl; 'if you will only
marry me all will be well. I am very rich, and all my family are
rich also.'
Then the young man gave her his promise to make her his wife, and
the girl fulfilled her part of the bargain, and food was
plentiful on the island all through the long winter months,
though he never knew how it got there. And by-and-by it was
spring once more, and time for the fisher-folk to sail from the
mainland.
'Where are we to go now?' asked the girl, one day, when the sun
seemed brighter and the wind softer than usual.
'I do not care where I go,' answered the young man; 'what do you
think?'
The girl replied that she would like to go somewhere right at the
other end of the island, and build a house, far away from the
huts of the fishing-folk. And he consented, and that very day
they set off in search of a sheltered spot on the banks of a
stream, so that it would be easy to get water.
In a tiny bay, on the opposite side of the island they found the
very thing, which seemed to have been made on purpose for them;
and as they were tired with their long walk, they laid themselves
down on a bank of moss among some birches and prepared to have a
good night's rest, so as to be fresh for work next day. But
before she went to sleep the girl turned to her husband, and
said: 'If in your dreams you fancy that you hear strange noises,
be sure you do not stir, or get up to see what it is.'
'Now you must fix on a spot for your cow-stalls,' said the girl,
when they had breakfasted off wild cherries; 'and take care it is
the proper size, neither too large nor too small.' And the
husband did as he was bid, though he wondered what use a
cow-house could be, as they had no cows to put in it. But as he
was a little afraid of his wife, who knew so much more than he,
he asked no questions.
This night also he was awakened by the same sounds as before, and
in the morning they found, near the stream, the most beautiful
cow-house that ever was seen, with stalls and milk-pails and
stools all complete, indeed, everything that a cow-house could
possibly want, except the cows. Then the girl bade him measure
out the ground for a storehouse, and this, she said, might be as
large as he pleased; and when the storehouse was ready she
proposed that they should set off to pay her parents a visit.
The young man listened to her words, and sprang over the
threshold like an arrow from a bow; and it was well he did, for,
no sooner was he on the other side, than his father-in-law threw
a great hammer at him, which would have broken both his legs, if
it had only touched them.
When they had gone some distance on the road home, the girl
turned to her husband and said: 'Till you step inside the house,
be sure you do not look back, whatever you may hear or see.'
And the husband promised, and for a while all was still; and he
thought no more about the matter till he noticed at last that the
nearer he drew to the house the louder grew the noise of the
trampling of feet behind him. As he laid his hand upon the door
he thought he was safe, and turned to look. There, sure enough,
was a vast herd of cattle, which had been sent after him by his
father-in-law when he found that his daughter had been cleverer
than he. Half of the herd were already through the fence and
cropping the grass on the banks of the stream, but half still
remained outside and faded into nothing, even as he watched them.
However, enough cattle were left to make the young man rich, and
he and his wife lived happily together, except that every now and
then the girl vanished from his sight, and never told him where
she had been. For a long time he kept silence about it; but one
day, when he had been complaining of her absence, she said to
him: 'Dear husband, I am bound to go, even against my will, and
there is only one way to stop me. Drive a nail into the
threshold, and then I can never pass in or out.'
And so he did.
[Lapplandische Mahrchen.]
Once upon a time there lived a miller who was so rich that, when
he was going to be married, he asked to the feast not only his
own friends but also the wild animals who dwelt in the hills and
woods round about. The chief of the bears, the wolves, the
foxes, the horses, the cows, the goats, the sheep, and the
reindeer, all received invitations; and as they were not
accustomed to weddings they were greatly pleased and flattered,
and sent back messages in the politest language that they would
certainly be there.
'Where are you going?' said he, looking at the bear in surprise,
for he was an old acquaintance, and not generally so smart.
'Don't go, don't go!' cried the boy. 'If you do you will never
come back! You have got the most beautiful skin in the world--
just the kind that everyone is wanting, and they will be sure to
kill you and strip you of it.'
'I had not thought of that,' said the bear, whose face turned
white, only nobody could see it. 'If you are certain that they
would be so wicked--but perhaps you are jealous because nobody
has invited you?'
The bear waited until he was out of sight, and then followed him
slowly, for he felt in his heart that the boy's advice was good,
though he was too proud to say so.
The boy soon grew tired of walking along the road, and turned off
into the woods, where there were bushes he could jump and streams
he could wade; but he had not gone far before he met the wolf.
'Where are you going?' asked he, for it was not the first time he
had seen him.
'Don't go!' said the boy again. 'Your skin is so thick and warm,
and winter is not far off now. They will kill you, and strip it
from you.'
The wolf's jaw dropped in astonishment and terror. 'Do you
really think that would happen?' he gasped.
Next the boy met the fox, whose lovely coat of silvery grey was
shining in the sun.
'You look very fine!' said the boy, stopping to admire him, 'are
you going to the miller's wedding too?'
'Yes,' answered the fox; 'it is a long journey to take for such a
thing as that, but you know what the miller's friends are like--
so dull and heavy! It is only kind to go and amuse them a
little.'
'You poor fellow,' said the boy pityingly. 'Take my advice and
stay at home. If you once enter the miller's gate his dogs will
tear you in pieces.'
'Ah, well, such things have occurred, I know,' replied the fox
gravely. And without saying any more he trotted off the way he
had come.
'Stop! stop!' cried the boy after him, and there was something in
his voice that made the horse pull up. 'What is the matter?'
asked he.
'You don't know what you are doing,' said the boy. 'If once you
go there you will never gallop through these woods any more. You
are stronger than many men, but they will catch you and put ropes
round you, and you will have to work and to serve them all the
days of your life.'
The horse threw back his head at these words, and laughed
scornfully.
'Yes, I am stronger than many men,' answered he, 'and all the
ropes in the world would not hold me. Let them bind me as fast
as they will, I can always break loose, and return to the forest
and freedom.'
And with this proud speech he gave a whisk of his long tail, and
galloped away faster than before.
But when he reached the miller's house everything happened as the
boy had said. While he was looking at the guests and thinking
how much handsomer and stronger he was than any of them, a rope
was suddenly flung over his head, and he was thrown down and a
bit thrust between his teeth. Then, in spite of his struggles,
he was dragged to a stable, and shut up for several days without
any food, till his spirit was broken and his coat had lost its
gloss. After that he was harnessed to a plough, and had plenty
of time to remember all he had lost through not listening to the
counsel of the boy.
When the horse had turned a deaf ear to his words the boy
wandered idly along, sometimes gathering wild strawberries from a
bank, and sometimes plucking wild cherries from a tree, till he
reached a clearing in the middle of the forest. Crossing this
open space was a beautiful milk-white cow with a wreath of
flowers round her neck.
'Don't go,' said the boy earnestly;' when once they have tasted
your milk they will never let you leave them, and you will have
to serve them all the days of your life.'
'Oh, nonsense; what do yon know about it?' answered the cow, who
always thought she was wiser than other people. 'Why, I can run
twice as fast as any of them! I should like to see anybody try to
keep me against my will.' And, without even a polite bow, she
went on her way, feeling very much offended.
But everything turned out just as the boy had said. The company
had all heard of the fame of the cow's milk, and persuaded her to
give them some, and then her doom was sealed. A crowd gathered
round her, and held her horns so that she could not use them,
and, like the horse, she was shut in the stable, and only let out
in the mornings, when a long rope was tied round her head, and
she was fastened to a stake in a grassy meadow.
'Where are you going?' asked the boy, who by this time was tired
of wild cherries, and was thinking of his dinner.
'O fool!' cried the boy, 'have you no sense at all? Don't you
know that when you get there they will hold you fast, for neither
beast nor bird is as strong or as swift as you?'
But none of the animals that went to the miller's wedding ever
came back. And because they were self-willed and conceited, and
would not listen to good advice, they and their children have
been the servants of men to this very day.
[Lapplandische Mahrchen.]
This went on for twenty years, and though his sons were now grown
up, and went with their father to the forest, everything seemed
to go against them, and they remained as poor as ever. In the
end the wood-cutter lost heart, and said to himself:
So the next morning he did not get up, and when six o'clock
struck, his wife, who had been cleaning the house, went to see
what was the matter.
'Yes; and when I have toiled all day I hardly earn enough to give
us one meal.'
'But what can we do, my poor husband?' said she. 'It is just a
trick of Fortune's, who would never smile upon us.'
'I don't care if there isn't, and I am not going to the forest.
It is no use your talking; nothing will make me change my mind.'
'He is upstairs; you had better ask him,' answered the woman.
And the man went up, and repeated his request.
'I am sorry, neighbour, but I have sworn not to leave my bed, and
nothing will make me break my vow.'
'Well, then, will you lend me your two mules? I will pay you
something for them.'
So the man left the house, and leading the mules from the stable,
placed two sacks on their back, and drove them to a field where
he had found a hidden treasure. He filled the sacks with the
money, though he knew perfectly well that it belonged to the
sultan, and was driving them quietly home again, when he saw two
soldiers coming along the road. Now the man was aware that if he
was caught he would be condemned to death, so he fled back into
the forest. The mules, left to themselves, took the path that
led to their master's stable.
The wood-cutter's wife was looking out of the window when the
mules drew up before the door, so heavily laden that they almost
sank under their burdens. She lost no time in calling her
husband, who was still lying in bed.
'Quick! quick! get up as fast as you can. Our two mules have
returned with sacks on their backs, so heavily laden with
something or other that the poor beasts can hardly stand up.'
'Wife, I have told you a dozen times already that I am not going
to get up. Why can't you leave me in peace?'
As she found she could get no help from her husband the woman
took a large knife and cut the cords which bound the sacks on to
the animals' backs. They fell at once to the ground, and out
poured a rain of gold pieces, till the little court-yard shone
like the sun.
'A treasure!' gasped the woman, as soon as she could speak from
surprise. 'A treasure!' And she ran off to tell her husband.
'Get up! get up!' she cried. 'You were quite right not to go to
the forest, and to await Fortune in your bed; she has come at
last! Our mules have returned home laden with all the gold in the
world, and it is now lying in the court. No one in the whole
country can be as rich as we are!'
Once upon a time an old woman lived in a small cottage near the
sea with her two daughters. They were very poor, and the girls
seldom left the house, as they worked all day long making veils
for the ladies to wear over their faces, and every morning, when
the veils were finished, the other took them over the bridge and
sold them in the city. Then she bought the food that they needed
for the day, and returned home to do her share of veil-making.
One morning the old woman rose even earlier than usual, and set
off for the city with her wares. She was just crossing the
bridge when, suddenly, she knocked up against a human head, which
she had never seen there before. The woman started back in
horror; but what was her surprise when the head spoke, exactly as
if it had a body joined on to it.
At the sound of these words the poor woman nearly went mad with
terror. Have that horrible thing always at home? Never! never!
And she turned and ran back as fast as she could, not knowing
that the head was jumping, dancing, and rolling after her. But
when she reached her own door it bounded in before her, and
stopped in front of the fire, begging and praying to be allowed
to stay.
All that day there was no food in the house, for the veils had
not been sold, and they had no money to buy anything with. So
they all sat silent at their work, inwardly cursing the head
which was the cause of their misfortunes.
When evening came, and there was no sign of supper, the head
spoke, for the first time that day:
'Good mother, does no one ever eat here? During all the hours I
have spent in your house not a creature has touched anything.'
'No,' answered the old woman, 'we are not eating anything.'
'No, for every morning I go into the city to sell my veils, and
with the few shillings I get for them I buy all we want. To-day
I did not cross the bridge, so of course I had nothing for food.'
'Then I am the cause of your having gone hungry all day?' asked
the head.
'Well, then, I will give you money and plenty of it, if you will
only do as I tell you. In an hour, as the clock strikes twelve,
you must be on the bridge at the place where you met me. When
you get there call out "Ahmed," three times, as loud as you can.
Then a negro will appear, and you must say to him: "The head,
your master, desires you to open the trunk, and to give me the
green purse which you will find in it."'
'Very well, my lord,' said the old woman, 'I will set off at once
for the bridge.' And wrapping her veil round her she went out.
Midnight was striking as she reached the spot where she had met
the head so many hours before.
'The head, your master, desires you to open the trunk, and to
give me the green purse which you will find in it.'
'I will be back in a moment, good mother,' said he. And three
minutes later he placed a purse full of sequins in the old
woman's hand.
No one can imagine the joy of the whole family at the sight of
all this wealth. The tiny, tumble-down cottage was rebuilt, the
girls had new dresses, and their mother ceased selling veils. It
was such a new thing to them to have money to spend, that they
were not as careful as they might have been, and by-and-by there
was not a single coin left in the purse. When this happened
their hearts sank within them, and their faces fell.
'Have you spent your fortune?' asked the head from its corner,
when it saw how sad they looked. 'Well, then, go at midnight,
good mother, to the bridge, and call out "Mahomet!" three times,
as loud as you can. A negro will appear in answer, and you must
tell him to open the trunk, and to give you the red purse which
he will find there.'
The old woman did not need twice telling, but set off at once for
the bridge.
'Mahomet! Mahomet! Mahomet!' cried she, with all her might; and
in an instant a negro, still larger than the last, stood before
her.
'The head, your master, bids you open the trunk, and to give me
the red purse which you will find in it.'
'Very well, good mother, I will do so,' answered the negro, and,
the moment after he had vanished, he reappeared with the purse in
his hand.
This time the money seemed so endless that the old woman built
herself a new house, and filled it with the most beautiful things
that were to be found in the shops. Her daughters were always
wrapped in veils that looked as if they were woven out of
sunbeams, and their dresses shone with precious stones. The
neighbours wondered where all this sudden wealth had sprung from,
but nobody knew about the head.
'Good mother,' said the head, one day, 'this morning you are to
go to the city and ask the sultan to give me his daughter for my
bride.'
'Do what?' asked the old woman in amazement. 'How can I tell the
sultan that a head without a body wishes to become his son-in-
law? They will think that I am mad, and I shall be hooted from
the palace and stoned by the children.'
The old woman was afraid to say anything more, and, putting on
her richest clothes, started for the palace. The sultan granted
her an audience at once, and, in a trembling voice, she made her
request.
'Are you mad, old woman?' said the sultan, staring at her.
'Then let him show his power by doing three things, and I will
give him my daughter.'
'Command, O gracious prince,' said she.
'Do you see that hill in front of the palace?' asked the sultan.
'Well, in forty days the man who has sent you must make that hill
vanish, and plant a beautiful garden in its place. That is the
first thing. Now go, and tell him what I say.'
So the old woman returned and told the head the sultan's first
condition.
It did not take her long to reach the bridge which led to the
city, and she took up her position on the spot where she had
first seen the head, and called loudly 'Ali! Ali! Ali.' In an
instant a negro appeared before her, of such a huge size that the
old woman was half frightened; but his voice was mild and gentle
as he said: 'What is it that you want?'
'Your master bids you level the hill that stands in front of the
sultan's palace and in its place to make the most beautiful
garden in the world.'
Meanwhile the sultan was in his palace waiting till the fortieth
day should dawn, and wondering that not one spadeful of earth
should have been dug out of the hill.
'If that old woman has been playing me a trick,' thought he, 'I
will hang her! And I will put up a gallows to-morrow on the hill
itself.'
But when to-morrow came there was no hill, and when the sultan
opened his eyes he could not imagine why the room was so much
lighter than usual, and what was the reason of the sweet smell of
flowers that filled the air.
'Your son has carried out my wishes very nicely,' he said. 'The
garden is larger and better than that of any other king. But
when I walk across it I shall need some place to rest on the
other side. In forty days he must build me a palace, in which
every room shall be filled with different furniture from a
different country, and each more magnificent than any room that
ever was seen.' And having said this he turned round and went
away.
'He shall be obeyed,' answered Hassan. And when the sultan woke
he saw, in the distance, a palace built of soft blue marble,
resting on slender pillars of pure gold.
'The head, your master, bids you find forty slaves of unequalled
beauty, and of the same height, and place them in the sultan's
palace on the other side of the garden.'
And when, on the morning of the fortieth day, the sultan went to
the blue palace, and was received by the forty slaves, he nearly
lost his wits from surprise.
And when the old woman entered his presence he informed her that
he was ready to fulfil his promise, and she was to bid her son
appear at the palace without delay.
This command did not at all please the old woman, though, of
course, she made no objections to the sultan.
'All has gone well so far,' she grumbled, when she told her story
to the head,' but what do you suppose the sultan will say, when
he sees his daughter's husband?'
So it was done, though the old woman's heart beat as she laid
down the dish with the head upon it.
At the sight before him the king flew into a violent rage.
'You have given your word, my father, and you cannot break it,'
said she.
'Yes, I will marry him. He had a beautiful head, and I love him
already.'
So the marriage was celebrated, and great feasts were held in the
palace, though the people wept tears to think of the sad fate of
their beloved princess. But when the merry-making was done, and
the young couple were alone, the head suddenly disappeared, or,
rather, a body was added to it, and one of the handsomest young
men that ever was seen stood before the princess.
The game the children loved the best was a match at archery, for
the king had given them two bows exactly alike, and they would
spend whole days in trying to see which could shoot the highest.
This is always very dangerous, and it was a great wonder they did
not put their eyes out; but somehow or other they managed to
escape.
One morning, when the prince had done his lessons, he ran out to
call his friend, and they both hurried off to the lawn which was
their usual playground. They took their bows out of the little
hut where their toys were kept, and began to see which could
shoot the highest. At last they happened to let fly their arrows
both together, and when they fell to earth again the tail feather
of a golden hen was found sticking in one. Now the question
began to arise whose was the lucky arrow, for they were both
alike, and look as closely as you would you could see no
difference between them. The prince declared that the arrow was
his, and the gardener's boy was quite sure it was HIS--and on
this occasion he was perfectly right; but, as they could not
decide the matter, they went straight to the king.
When the king had heard the story, he decided that the feather
belonged to his son; but the other boy would not listen to this
and claimed the feather for himself. At length the king's
patience gave way, and he said angrily:
'Very well; if you are so sure that the feather is yours, yours
it shall be; only you will have to seek till you find a golden
hen with a feather missing from her tail. And if you fail to
find her your head will be the forfeit.'
The boy had need of all his courage to listen silently to the
king's words. He had no idea where the golden hen might be, or
even, if he discovered that, how he was to get to her. But there
was nothing for it but to do the king's bidding, and he felt that
the sooner he left the palace the better. So he went home and
put some food into a bag, and then set forth, hoping that some
accident might show him which path to take.
After walking for several hours he met a fox, who seemed inclined
to be friendly, and the boy was so glad to have anyone to talk to
that he sat down and entered into conversation.
'I have got to find a golden hen who has lost a feather out of
her tail,' answered the boy; 'but I don't know where she lives or
how I shall catch her!'
'Oh, I can show you the way!' said the fox, who was really very
good-natured. 'Far towards the east, in that direction, lives a
beautiful maiden who is called "The Sister of the Sun." She has
three golden hens in her house. Perhaps the feather belongs to
one of them.'
The boy was delighted at this news, and they walked on all day
together, the fox in front, and the boy behind. When evening
came they lay down to sleep, and put the knapsack under their
heads for a pillow.
Suddenly, about midnight, the fox gave a low whine, and drew
nearer to his bedfellow. 'Cousin,' he whispered very low, 'there
is someone coming who will take the knapsack away from me. Look
over there!' And the boy, peeping through the bushes, saw a man.
'Oh, I don't think he will rob us!' said the boy; and when the
man drew near, he told them his story, which so much interested
the stranger that he asked leave to travel with them, as he might
be of some use. So when the sun rose they set out again, the fox
in front as before, the man and boy following.
After some hours they reached the castle of the Sister of the
Sun, who kept the golden hens among her treasures. They halted
before the gate and took counsel as to which of them should go in
and see the lady herself.
'I think it would be best for me to enter and steal the hens,'
said the fox; but this did not please the boy at all.
'Well, go then,' said the fox, 'but be careful not to make any
mistake. Steal only the hen which has the feather missing from
her tail, and leave the others alone.'
The man listened, but did not interfere, and the boy entered the
court of the palace.
He soon spied the three hens strutting proudly about, though they
were really anxiously wondering if there were not some grains
lying on the ground that they might be glad to eat. And as the
last one passed by him, he saw she had one feather missing from
her tail.
At this sight the youth darted forward and seized the hen by the
neck so that she could not struggle. Then, tucking her
comfortably under his arm, he made straight for the gate.
Unluckily, just as he was about to go through it he looked back
and caught a glimpse of wonderful splendours from an open door of
the palace. 'After all, there is no hurry,' he said to himself;
'I may as well see something now I AM here,' and turned back,
forgetting all about the hen, which escaped from under his arm,
and ran to join her sisters.
As he drew near the gate he paused. 'Why did I not give her a
kiss?' he said to himself; 'I shall never kiss any woman so
beautiful.' And he wrung his hands with regret, so that the hen
fell to the ground and ran away.
'You shall never, never, have my hen till you bring me back my
sister who was carried off by a giant to his castle, which is a
long way off.'
Slowly and sadly the youth left the palace and told his story to
his friends, who were waiting outside the gate, how he had
actually held the hen three times in his arms and had lost her.
'I knew that we should not get off so easily,' said the fox,
shaking his head; 'but there is no more time to waste. Let us
set off at once in search of the sister. Luckily, I know the
way.'
They walked on for many days, till at length the fox, who, as
usual, was going first, stopped suddenly.
'The giant's castle is not far now,' he said, 'but when we reach
it you two must remain outside while I go and fetch the princess.
Directly I bring her out you must both catch hold of her tight,
and get away as fast as you can; while I return to the castle and
talk to the giants--for there are many of them--so that they may
not notice the escape of the princess.'
A few minutes later they arrived at the castle, and the fox, who
had often been there before, slipped in without difficulty.
There were several giants, both young and old, in the hall, and
they were all dancing round the princess. As soon as they saw
the fox they cried out: 'Come and dance too, old fox; it is a
long time since we have seen you.'
So the fox stood up, and did his steps with the best of them; but
after a while he stopped and said:
'I know a charming new dance that I should like to show you; but
it can only be done by two people. If the princess will honour
me for a few minutes, you will soon see how it is done.'
He knew a great many short cuts across the hills, so it was not
long before he came up with them, and all four travelled night
and day till they reached the castle of the Sister of the Sun.
What joy and feasting there was throughout the palace at the
sight of the princess whom they had mourned as dead! and they
could not make enough of the boy who had gone through such
dangers in order to rescue her. The golden hen was given to him
at once, and, more than that, the Sister of the Sun told him
that, in a little time, when he was a few years older, she would
herself pay a visit to his home and become his wife. The boy
could hardly believe his ears when he heard what was in store for
him, for his was the most beautiful princess in all the world;
and however thick the darkness might be, it fled away at once
from the light of a star on her forehead.
So the boy set forth on his journey home, with his friends for
company; his heart full of gladness when he thought of the
promise of the princess. But, one by one, his comrades dropped
off at the places where they had first met him, and he was quite
alone when he reached his native town and the gates of the
palace. With the golden hen under his arm he presented himself
before the king, and told his adventures, and how he was going to
have for a wife a princess so wonderful and unlike all other
princesses, that the star on her forehead could turn night into
day. The king listened silently, and when the boy had done, he
said quietly: 'If I find that your story is not true I will have
you thrown into a cask of pitch.'
But as the time drew near, and nothing was heard of the princess,
the youth became anxious and uneasy, especially when it came to
his ears that the great cask was being filled with pitch, and
that sticks were laid underneath to make a fire to boil it with.
All day long the boy stood at the window, looking over the sea by
which the princess must travel; but there were no signs of her,
not even the tiniest white sail. And, as he stood, soldiers came
and laid hands on him, and led him up to the cask, where a big
fire was blazing, and the horrid black pitch boiling and bubbling
over the sides. He looked and shuddered, but there was no
escape; so he shut his eyes to avoid seeing.
The word was given for him to mount the steps which led to the
top of the cask, when, suddenly, some men were seen running with
all their might, crying as they went that a large ship with its
sails spread was making straight for the city. No one knew what
the ship was, or whence it came; but the king declared that he
would not have the boy burned before its arrival, there would
always be time enough for that.
At length the vessel was safe in port, and a whisper went through
the watching crowd that on board was the Sister of the Sun, who
had come to marry the young peasant as she had promised. In a
few moments more she had landed, and desired to be shown the way
to the cottage which her bridegroom had so often described to
her; and whither he had been led back by the king's order at the
first sign of the ship.
'Don't you know me?' asked the Sister of the Sun, bending over
him where he lay, almost driven out of his senses with terror.
'No, no; I don't know you,' answered the youth, without raising
his eyes.
'Kiss me,' said the Sister of the Sun; and the youth obeyed her,
but still without looking up.
'No, I don't know you--I don't know you,' he replied, with the
manner of a man whom fear had driven mad.
'I shall marry him to-morrow,' ended she; and ordered the
preparations to be set on foot at once.
When the next day came, however, the bridegroom's father informed
the princess that, by the law of the land, the marriage must take
place in the presence of the king; but he hoped his majesty would
not long delay his arrival. An hour or two passed, and everyone
was waiting and watching, when at last the sound of trumpets was
heard and a grand procession was seen marching up the street. A
chair covered with velvet had been made ready for the king, and
he took his seat upon it, and, looking round upon the assembled
company, he said:
'I have no wish to forbid this marriage; but, before I can allow
it to be celebrated, the bridegroom must prove himself worthy of
such a bride by fulfilling three tasks. And the first is that in
a single day he must cut down every tree in an entire forest.
The youth stood aghast as the king's words. He had never cut
down a tree in his life, and had not the least idea how to begin.
And as for a whole forest--! But the princess saw what was
passing in his mind, and whispered to him:
'Don't be afraid. In my ship you will find an axe, which you
must carry off to the forest. When you have cut down one tree
with it just say: "So let the forest fall," and in an instant all
the trees will be on the ground. But pick up three chips of the
tree you felled, and put them in your pocket.'
And the young man did exactly as he was bid, and soon returned
with the three chips safe in his coat.
The following morning the princess declared that she had been
thinking about the matter, and that, as she was not a subject of
the king, she saw no reason why she should be bound by his laws;
and she meant to be married that very day. But the bridegroom's
father told her that it was all very well for her to talk like
that, but it was quite different for his son, who would pay with
his head for any disobedience to the king's commands. However,
in consideration of what the youth had done the day before, he
hoped his majesty's heart might be softened, especially as he had
sent a message that they might expect him at once. With this the
bridal pair had to be content, and be as patient as they could
till the king's arrival.
He did not keep them long, but they saw by his face that nothing
good awaited them.
This sounded much more difficult than what he had done before,
and he turned in despair to the Sister of the Sun.
And the young man did what he was told, and left the forest
looking exactly as it had done before.
Now, surely, thought the princess, there was no longer any need
to put off the wedding; and she gave orders that all should be
ready for the following day. But again the old man interfered,
and declared that without the king's permission no marriage could
take place. For the third time his majesty was sent for, and for
the third time he proclaimed that he could not give his consent
until the bridegroom should have slain a serpent which dwelt in a
broad river that flowed at the back of the castle. Everyone knew
stories of this terrible serpent, though no one had actually seen
it; but from time to time a child strayed from home and never
came back, and then mothers would forbid the other children to go
near the river, which had juicy fruits and lovely flowers growing
along its banks.
The young man did exactly what the princess had told him. The
three chips which he flung into the river became a boat, and, as
he steered across the stream, the serpent put up its head and
hissed loudly. The youth had his sword ready, and in another
second the three heads were bobbing on the water. Guiding his
boat till he was beside them, he stooped down and snipped off the
ends of the tongues, and then rowed back to the other bank. Next
morning he carried them into the royal kitchen, and when the king
entered, as was his custom, to see what he was going to have for
dinner, the bridegroom flung them in his face, saying: 'Here is a
gift for you in return for the services you asked of me.' And,
opening the kitchen door, he fled to the ship. Unluckily he
missed the way, and in his excitement ran backwards and forwards,
without knowing whither he was going. At last, in despair, he
looked round, and saw to his amazement that both the city and
palace had vanished completely. Then he turned his eyes in the
other direction, and, far, far away, he caught sight of the ship
with her sails spread, and a fair wind behind her.
This dreadful spectacle seemed to take away his senses, and all
day long he wandered about, without knowing where he was going,
till, in the evening, he noticed some smoke from a little hut of
turf near by. He went straight up to it and cried: 'O mother,
let me come in for pity's sake!' The old woman who lived in the
hut beckoned to him to enter, and hardly was he inside when he
cried again: 'O mother, can you tell me anything of the Sister of
the Sun?'
But the woman only shook her head. 'No, I know nothing of her,'
said she.
The young man turned to leave the hut, but the old woman stopped
him, and, giving him a letter, begged him to carry it to her next
eldest sister, saying: 'If you should get tired on the way, take
out the letter and rustle the paper.'
This advice surprised the young man a good deal, as he did not
see how it could help him; but he did not answer, and went down
the road without knowing where he was going. At length he grew
so tired he could walk no more; then he remembered what the old
woman had said. After he had rustled the leaves only once all
fatigue disappeared, and he strode over the grass till he came to
another little turf hut.
'Let me in, I pray you, dear mother,' cried he. And the door
opened in front of him. 'Your sister has sent you this letter,'
he said, and added quickly: 'O mother! can you tell me anything
of the Sister of the Sun?'
'If you happen to pass my eldest sister's house, will you give
her this letter?' said she. 'And if you should get tired on the
road, just take it out of your pocket and rustle the paper.'
So the young man put the letter in his pocket, and walked all day
over the hills till he reached a little turf hut, exactly like
the other two.
'Yes, I can,' answered the old woman. 'She lives in the castle
on the Banka. Her father lost a battle only a few days ago
because you had stolen his sword from him, and the Sister of the
Sun herself is almost dead of grief. But, when you see her,
stick a pin into the palm of her hand, and suck the drops of
blood that flow. Then she will grow calmer, and will know you
again. Only, beware; for before you reach the castle on the
Banka fearful things will happen.'
He thanked the old woman with tears of gladness for the good news
she had given him, and continued his journey. But he had not
gone very far when, at a turn of the road, he met with two
brothers, who were quarrelling over a piece of cloth.
'My good men, what are you fighting about?' said he. 'That cloth
does not look worth much!'
'Let me put it round me for a moment,' said the youth, 'and then
I will tell you whose it ought to be!'
The brothers were pleased with this idea, and gave him the stuff;
but the moment he had thrown it over his shoulder he disappeared
as completely as if he had never been there at all.
'Let me try the table-cloth,' said the youth, 'and I will tell
you whose it ought to be.'
The two men were quite pleased with this idea, and handed him the
cloth. He then hastily threw the first piece of stuff round his
shoulders and vanished from sight, leaving the two men grieving
over their own folly.
The young man had not walked far before he saw two more men
standing by the road-side, both grasping the same stout staff,
and sometimes one seemed on the point of getting it, and
sometimes the other.
'What are you quarrelling about? You could cut a dozen sticks
from the wood each just as good as that!' said the young man.
And as he spoke the fighters both stopped and looked at him.
'Ah! you may think so,' said one, 'but a blow from one end of
this stick will kill a man, while a touch from the other end will
bring him back to life. You won't easily find another stick like
that!'
'No; that is true,' answered the young man. 'Let me just look at
it, and I will tell you whose it ought to be.'
The men were pleased with the idea, and handed him the staff.
At last he saw another set of men, who were struggling for the
possession of a pair of shoes.
'Why can't you leave that pair of old shoes alone?' said he.
'Why, you could not walk a yard in them!'
'Yes, they are old enough,' answered they; 'but whoever puts them
on and wishes himself at a particular place, gets there without
going.'
'That sounds very clever,' said the youth. 'Let me try them, and
then I shall be able to tell you whose they ought to be.'
The idea pleased the men, and they handed him the shoes; but the
moment they were on his feet he cried:
'I wish to be in the castle on the Banka!' And before he knew it,
he was there, and found the Sister of the Sun dying of grief. He
knelt down by her side, and pulling a pin he stuck it into the
palm of her hand, so that a drop of blood gushed out. This he
sucked, as he had been told to do by the old woman, and
immediately the princess came to herself, and flung her arms
round his neck. Then she told him all her story, and what had
happened since the ship had sailed away without him. 'But the
worst misfortune of all,' she added, 'was a battle which my
father lost because you had vanished with his magic sword; and
out of his whole army hardly one man was left.'
'Show me the battle-field,' said he. And she took him to a wild
heath, where the dead were lying as they fell, waiting for
burial. One by one he touched them with the end of his staff,
till at length they all stood before him. Throughout the kingdom
there was nothing but joy; and THIS time the wedding was REALLY
celebrated. And the bridal pair lived happily in the castle on
the Banka till they died.
[Lapplandische Mahrchen.]
Once upon a time a little boy was born to a king who ruled over a
great country through which ran a wide river. The king was
nearly beside himself with joy, for he had always longed for a
son to inherit his crown, and he sent messages to beg all the
most powerful fairies to come and see this wonderful baby. In an
hour or two, so many were gathered round the cradle, that the
child seemed in danger of being smothered; but the king, who was
watching the fairies eagerly, was disturbed to see them looking
grave. 'Is there anything the matter?' he asked anxiously.
The fairies looked at him, and all shook their heads at once.
For four or five years the baby lived in the castle alone with
his nurses, taking his airings on the broad terraces, which were
surrounded by walls, with a moat beneath them, and only a
drawbridge to connect them with the outer world.
One day, when the prince was old enough to run quite fast by
himself, he looked from the terrace across the moat, and saw a
little soft fluffy ball of a dog jumping and playing on the other
side. Now, of course, all dogs had been kept from him for fear
that the fairies' prophecy should come true, and he had never
even beheld one before. So he turned to the page who was walking
behind him, and said:
'Well, bring me one like it, and we will see which can run the
faster.' And he watched the dog till it had disappeared round
the corner.
The page was much puzzled to know what to do. He had strict
orders to refuse the prince nothing; yet he remembered the
prophecy, and felt that this was a serious matter. At last he
thought he had better tell the king the whole story, and let him
decide the question.
'Oh, get him a dog if he wants one,' said the king, 'he will only
cry his heart out if he does not have it.' So a puppy was found,
exactly like the other; they might have been twins, and perhaps
they were.
Years went by, and the boy and the dog played together till the
boy grew tall and strong. The time came at last when he sent a
message to his father, saying:
And again the king listened to his wishes, and he and his dog
were carried in a ship to the other side of the river, which was
so broad here it might almost have been the sea. A black horse
was waiting for him, tied to a tree, and he mounted and rode away
wherever his fancy took him, the dog always at his heels. Never
was any prince so happy as he, and he rode and rode till at
length he came to a king's palace.
The king who lived in it did not care about looking after his
country, and seeing that his people lived cheerful and contented
lives. He spent his whole time in making riddles, and inventing
plans which he had much better have let alone. At the period
when the young prince reached the kingdom he had just completed a
wonderful house for his only child, a daughter. It had seventy
windows, each seventy feet from the ground, and he had sent the
royal herald round the borders of the neighbouring kingdoms to
proclaim that whoever could climb up the walls to the window of
the princess should win her for his wife.
The fame of the princess's beauty had spread far and wide, and
there was no lack of princes who wished to try their fortune.
Very funny the palace must have looked each morning, with the
dabs of different colour on the white marble as the princes were
climbing up the walls. But though some managed to get further
than others, nobody was anywhere near the top.
They had already been spending several days in this manner when
the young prince arrived, and as he was pleasant to look upon,
and civil to talk to, they welcomed him to the house, which had
been given to them, and saw that his bath was properly perfumed
after his long journey. 'Where do you come from?' they said at
last. 'And whose son are you?'
But the young prince had reasons for keeping his own secret, and
he answered:
'My father was master of the horse to the king of my country, and
after my mother died he married another wife. At first all went
well, but as soon as she had babies of her own she hated me, and
I fled, lest she should do me harm.'
The hearts of the other young men were touched as soon as they
heard this story, and they did everything they could think of to
make him forget his past sorrows.
'What are you doing here?' said the youth, one day.
'We spend our whole time climbing up the walls of the palace,
trying to reach the windows of the princess,' answered the young
men; 'but, as yet, no one has reached within ten feet of them.'
'Oh, let me try too,' cried the prince; 'but to-morrow I will
wait and see what you do before I begin.
So the next day he stood where he could watch the young men go
up, and he noted the places on the wall that seemed most
difficult, and made up his mind that when his turn came he would
go up some other way.
Day after day he was to be seen watching the wooers, till, one
morning, he felt that he knew the plan of the walls by heart, and
took his place by the side of the others. Thanks to what he had
learned from the failure of the rest, he managed to grasp one
little rough projection after another, till at last, to the envy
of his friends, he stood on the sill of the princess's window.
Looking up from below, they saw a white hand stretched forth to
draw him in.
Then one of the young men ran straight to the king's palace, and
said: 'The wall has been climbed, and the prize is won!'
'By whom?' cried the king, starting up from his throne; 'which of
the princes may I claim as my son-in-law?'
At this news the king was very angry, for it had never entered
his head that anyone BUT a prince would seek to woo his daughter.
Now the princess, who was leaning from her window, heard his
words and bade the messenger go back to the king her father and
tell him that she had sworn a vow never to eat or drink again if
the youth was taken from her. The king was more angry than ever
when he received this message, and ordered his guards to go at
once to the palace and put the successful wooer to death; but the
princess threw herself between him and his murderers.
By this time the king's anger was dying away, and he began to
consider what his people would think of him if he broke the
promise he had publicly given. So he ordered the princess to be
brought before him, and the young man also, and when they entered
the throne room he was so pleased with the noble air of the
victor that his wrath quite melted away, and he ran to him and
embraced him.
But the prince still had his reasons for being silent, and only
told the same story. However, the king had taken such a fancy to
the youth that he said no more, and the marriage took place the
following day, and great herds of cattle and a large estate were
given to the young couple.
After a little while the prince said to his wife: 'My life is in
the hands of three creatures--a crocodile, a serpent, and a dog.'
'Ah, how rash you are!' cried the princess, throwing her arms
round his neck. 'If you know that, how can you have that horrid
beast about you? I will give orders to have him killed at once.'
'Kill my dear little dog, who had been my playfellow since he was
a puppy?' exclaimed he. 'Oh, never would I allow that.' And all
that the princess could get from him was that he would always
wear a sword, and have somebody with him when he left the palace.
When the prince and princess had been married a few months, the
prince heard that his stepmother was dead, and his father was old
and ill, and longing to have his eldest son by his side again.
The young man could not remain deaf to such a message, and he
took a tender farewell of his wife, and set out on his journey
home. It was a long way, and he was forced to rest often on the
road, and so it happened that, one night, when he was sleeping in
a city on the banks of the great river, a huge crocodile came
silently up and made its way along a passage to the prince's
room. Fortunately one of his guards woke up as it was trying to
steal past them, and shut the crocodile up in a large hall, where
a giant watched over it, never leaving the spot except during the
night, when the crocodile slept. And this went on for more than
a month.
Now, when the prince found that he was not likely to leave his
father's kingdom again, he sent for his wife, and bade the
messenger tell her that he would await her coming in the town on
the banks of the great river. This was the reason why he delayed
his journey so long, and narrowly escaped being eaten by the
crocodile. During the weeks that followed the prince amused
himself as best he could, though he counted the minutes to the
arrival of the princess, and when she did come, he at once
prepared to start for the court. That very night, however, while
he was asleep, the princess noticed something strange in one of
the corners of the room. It was a dark patch, and seemed, as she
looked, to grow longer and longer, and to be moving slowly
towards the cushions on which the prince was lying. She shrank
in terror, but, slight as was the noise, the thing heard it, and
raised its head to listen. Then she saw it was the long flat
head of a serpent, and the recollection of the prophecy rushed
into her mind. Without waking her husband, she glided out of
bed, and taking up a heavy bowl of milk which stood on a table,
laid it on the floor in the path of the serpent--for she knew
that no serpent in the world can resist milk. She held her
breath as the snake drew near, and watched it throw up its head
again as if it was smelling something nice, while its forky
tongue darted out greedily. At length its eyes fell upon the
milk, and in an instant it was lapping it so fast that it was a
wonder the creature did not choke, for it never took its head
from the bowl as long as a drop was left in it. After that it
dropped on the ground and slept heavily. This was what the
princess had been waiting for, and catching up her husband's
sword, she severed the snake's head from its body.
The morning after this adventure the prince and princess set out
for the king's palace, but found when they reached it, that he
was already dead. They gave him a magnificent burial, and then
the prince had to examine the new laws which had been made in his
absence, and do a great deal of business besides, till he grew
quite ill from fatigue, and was obliged to go away to one of his
palaces on the banks of the river, in order to rest. Here he
soon got better, and began to hunt, and to shoot wild duck with
his bow; and wherever he went, his dog, now grown very old, went
with him.
One morning the prince and his dog were out as usual, and in
chasing their game they drew near the bank of the river. The
prince was running at full speed after his dog when he almost
fell over something that looked like a log of wood, which was
lying in his path. To his surprise a voice spoke to him, and he
saw that the thing which he had taken for a branch was really a
crocodile.
'You cannot escape from me,' it was saying, when he had gathered
his senses again. 'I am your fate, and wherever you go, and
whatever you do, you will always find me before you. There is
only one means of shaking off my power. If you can dig a pit in
the dry sand which will remain full of water, my spell will be
broken. If not death will come to you speedily. I give you this
one chance. Now go.'
The young man walked sadly away, and when he reached the palace
he shut himself into his room, and for the rest of the day
refused to see anyone, not even his wife. At sunset, however, as
no sound could be heard through the door, the princess grew quite
frightened, and made such a noise that the prince was forced to
draw back the bolt and let her come in. 'How pale you look,' she
cried, 'has anything hurt you? Tell me, I pray you, what is the
matter, for perhaps I can help!'
So the prince told her the whole story, and of the impossible
task given him by the crocodile.
'How can a sand hole remain full of water?' asked he. 'Of
course, it will all run through. The crocodile called it a
"chance"; but he might as well have dragged me into the river at
once. He said truly that I cannot escape him.'
'Oh, if that is all,' cried the princess, 'I can set you free
myself, for my fairy godmother taught me to know the use of
plants and in the desert not far from here there grows a little
four-leaved herb which will keep the water in the pit for a whole
year. I will go in search of it at dawn, and you can begin to
dig the hole as soon as you like.
Oh! how glad they both were when they caught sight of a tall rock
in the distance. They forgot that they were thirsty, and that
the sun was hot; and the ground seemed to fly under their feet,
till the donkey stopped of its own accord in the cool shadow.
But though the donkey might rest the princess could not, for the
plant, as she knew, grew on the very top of the rock, and a wide
chasm ran round the foot of it. Luckily she had brought a rope
with her, and making a noose at one end, she flung it across with
all her might. The first time it slid back slowly into the
ditch, and she had to draw it up, and throw it again, but at
length the noose caught on something, the princess could not see
what, and had to trust her whole weight to this little bridge,
which might snap and let her fall deep down among the rocks. And
in that case her death was as certain as that of the prince.
The heart of the poor princess was filled with despair, but she
would not give up the struggle. She looked round till she saw a
small stone above her which seemed rather stronger than the rest,
and by only poising her foot lightly on those that lay between,
she managed by a great effort to reach it. In this way, with
torn and bleeding hands, she gained the top; but here such a
violent wind was blowing that she was almost blinded with dust,
and was obliged to throw herself on the ground, and feel about
after the precious herb.
For a few terrible moments she thought that the rock was bare,
and that her journey had been to no purpose. Feel where she
would, there was nothing but grit and stones, when, suddenly, her
fingers touched something soft in a crevice. It was a plant,
that was clear; but was it the right one? See she could not, for
the wind was blowing more fiercely than ever, so she lay where
she was and counted the leaves. One, two, three--yes! yes! there
were four! And plucking a leaf she held it safe in her hand while
she turned, almost stunned by the wind, to go down the rock.
When once she was safely over the side all became still in a
moment, and she slid down the rock so fast that it was only a
wonder that she did not land in the chasm. However, by good
luck, she stopped quite close to her rope bridge and was soon
across it. The donkey brayed joyfully at the sight of her, and
set off home at his best speed, never seeming to know that the
earth under his feet was nearly as hot as the sun above him.
On the bank of the great river he halted, and the princess rushed
up to where the prince was standing by the pit he had digged in
the dry sand, with a huge water pot beside it. A little way off
the crocodile lay blinking in the sun, with his sharp teeth and
whity-yellow jaws wide open.
At a signal from the princess the prince poured the water in the
hole, and the moment it reached the brim the princess flung in
the four-leaved plant. Would the charm work, or would the water
trickle away slowly through the sand, and the prince fall a
victim to that horrible monster? For half an hour they stood
with their eyes rooted to the spot, but the hole remained as full
as at the beginning, with the little green leaf floating on the
top. Then the prince turned with a shout of triumph, and the
crocodile sulkily plunged into the river.
The prince had escape for ever the second of his three fates!
Once upon a time a fox lay peeping out of his hole, watching the
road that ran by at a little distance, and hoping to see
something that might amuse him, for he was feeling very dull and
rather cross. For a long while he watched in vain; everything
seemed asleep, and not even a bird stirred overhead. The fox
grew crosser than ever, and he was just turning away in disgust
from his place when he heard the sound of feet coming over the
snow. He crouched eagerly down at the edge of the road and said
to himself: 'I wonder what would happen if I were to pretend to
be dead! This is a man driving a reindeer sledge, I know the
tinkling of the harness. And at any rate I shall have an
adventure, and that is always something!'
But before they had gone very far, the fox, who was near the
edge, contrived to slip over, and when the Laplander saw him
stretched out on the snow he pulled up his reindeer and put the
fox into one of the other sledges that was fastened behind, for
it was market-day at the nearest town, and the man had much to
sell.
Now there were so many sledges that the Lapp did not notice for a
long while that one was missing; indeed, he would have entered
the town without knowing if snow had not suddenly begun to fall.
Then he got down to secure more firmly the cloths that kept his
goods dry, and going to the end of the long row, discovered that
the sledge containing the fish and the fox was missing. He
quickly unharnessed one of his reindeer and rode back along the
way he had come, to find the sledge standing safe in the middle
of the road; but as the fox had bitten off the cord close to the
noose there was no means of moving it away.
'Oh, not far off,' answered he; 'I just stuck my tail in the
stream close by the place where the elves dwell, and the fish
hung on to it of itself.'
'Dear me,' snarled the bear, who was hungry and not in a good
temper, 'if the fish hung on to your tail, I suppose he will hang
on to mine.'
'Of course I can,' replied the bear, 'what nonsense you talk!
Show me the way.'
'The elves bathe here,' he said, 'and if you put in your tail the
fish will catch hold of it. But it is no use being in a hurry,
or you will spoil everything.'
Then he trotted off, but only went out of sight of the bear, who
stood still on the bank with his tail deep in the water. Soon
the sun set and it grew very cold and the ice formed rapidly, and
the bear's tail was fixed as tight as if a vice had held it; and
when the fox saw that everything had happened just as he had
planned it, he called out loudly:
'Be quick, good people, and come with your bows and spears. A
bear has been fishing in your brook!'
And in a moment the whole place was full of little creatures each
one with a tiny bow and a spear hardly big enough for a baby; but
both arrows and spears could sting, as the bear knew very well,
and in his fright he gave such a tug to his tail that it broke
short off, and he rolled away into the forest as fast as his legs
could carry him. At this sight the fox held his sides for
laughing, and then scampered away in another direction. By-and-
by he came to a fir tree, and crept into a hole under the root.
After that he did something very strange.
Taking one of his hind feet between his two front paws, he said
softly:
'What would you do, mine ear, if someone was to betray me?'
'I would listen so hard that I should hear all his plans.'
'I would smell so sharply that I should know from afar that he
was coming.'
'I would steer you so straight a course that you would soon be
beyond his reach. Let us be off; I feel as if danger was near.'
But the fox was comfortable where he was, and did not hurry
himself to take his tail's advice. And before very long he found
he was too late, for the bear had come round by another path, and
guessing where his enemy was began to scratch at the roots of the
tree. The fox made himself as small as he could, but a scrap of
his tail peeped out, and the bear seized it and held it tight.
Then the fox dug his claws into the ground, but he was not strong
enough to pull against the bear, and slowly he was dragged forth
and his body flung over the bear's neck. In this manner they set
out down the road, the fox's tail being always in the bear's
mouth.
After they had gone some way, they passed a tree-stump, on which
a bright coloured woodpecker was tapping.
'Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds
such gay colours,' sighed the fox.
'I? Oh, I was saying nothing,' answered the fox drearily. 'Just
carry me to your cave and eat me up as quick as you can.'
The bear was silent, and thought of his supper; and the two
continued their journey till they reached another tree with a
woodpecker tapping on it.
'Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds
such gay colours,' said the fox again to himself.
But the fox shook his head; for he was always acting, even if no
one was there to see him do it.
'It does not matter a straw how hard the work is,' answered the
bear eagerly, 'I will do it every bit.' And as he spoke he began
tearing up the earth so fast that soon a deep pit was ready, deep
enough to hold him.
'That is all right,' said the fox at last, 'I see I was mistaken
in you. Now sit here, and I will bind you.' So the bear sat
down on the edge of the pit, and the fox sprang on his back,
which he crossed with the willow ropes, and then set fire to the
pitch. It burnt up in an instant, and caught the bands of willow
and the bear's rough hair; but he did not stir, for he thought
that the fox was rubbing the bright colours into his skin, and
that he would soon be as beautiful as a whole meadow of flowers.
But when the fire grew hotter still he moved uneasily from one
foot to the other, saying, imploringly: 'It is getting rather
warm, old man.' But all the answer he got was: 'I thought you
would never be able to suffer pain like those little birds.'
The bear did not like being told that he was not as brave as a
bird, so he set his teeth and resolved to endure anything sooner
than speak again; but by this time the last willow band had
burned through, and with a push the fox sent his victim tumbling
into the grass, and ran off to hide himself in the forest. After
a while he stole cautiously and found, as he expected, nothing
left but a few charred bones. These he picked up and put in a
bag, which he slung over his back.
'Good-day, friend! What have you got in your bag that makes such
a strange sound?'
'All the wealth my father left me,' answered the fox. 'Do you
feel inclined to bargain?'
'Well, I don't mind,' replied the Lapp, who was a prudent man,
and did not wish the fox to think him too eager; 'but show me
first what money you have got.'
'Ah, but I can't do that,' answered the fox, 'my bag is sealed
up. But if you will give me those three reindeer, you shall take
it as it is, with all its contents.'
The Lapp did not quite like it, but the fox spoke with such an
air that his doubts melted away. He nodded, and stretched out
his hand; the fox put the bag into it, and unharnassed the
reindeer he had chosen.
For some time the Lapp was satisfied with hearing the bones
rattle, and thinking to himself what a good bargain he had made,
and of all the things he would buy with the money. But, after a
bit, this amusement ceased to content him, and besides, what was
the use of planning when you did not know for certain how rich
you were? Perhaps there might be a great deal of silver and only
a little gold in the bag; or a great deal of gold, and only a
little silver. Who could tell? He would not, of course, take
the money out to count it, for that might bring him bad luck.
But there could be no harm in just one peep! So he slowly broke
the seal, and untied the strings, and, behold, a heap of burnt
bones lay before him! In a minute he knew he had been tricked,
and flinging the bag to the ground in a rage, he ran after the
fox as fast as his snow-shoes would carry him.
Now the fox had guessed exactly what would happen, and was on the
look out. Directly he saw the little speck coming towards him,
he wished that the man's snow-shoes might break, and that very
instant the Lapp's shoes snapped in two. The Lapp did now know
that this was the fox's work, but he had to stop and fetch one of
his other reindeer, which he mounted, and set off again in
pursuit of his enemy. The fox soon heard him coming, and this
time he wished that the reindeer might fall and break its leg.
And so it did; and the man felt it was a hopeless chase, and that
he was no match for the fox.
So the fox drove on in peace till he reached the cave where all
his stores were kept, and then he began to wonder whom he could
get to help him kill his reindeer, for though he could steal
reindeer he was too small to kill them. 'After all, it will be
quite easy,' thought he, and he bade a squirrel, who was watching
him on a tree close by, take a message to all the robber beasts
of the forest, and in less than half an hour a great crashing of
branches was heard, and bears, wolves, snakes, mice, frogs, and
other creatures came pressing up to the cave.
When they heard why they had been summoned, they declared
themselves ready each one to do his part. The bear took his
crossbow from his neck and shot the reindeer in the chin; and,
from that day to this, every reindeer has a mark in that same
spot, which is always known as the bear's arrow. The wolf shot
him in the thigh, and the sign of his arrow still remains; and so
with the mouse and the viper and all the rest, even the frog; and
at the last the reindeer all died. And the fox did nothing, but
looked on.
'I really must go down to the brook and wash myself,' said he
(though he was perfectly clean), and he went under the bank and
hid himself behind a stone. From there he set up the most
frightful shrieks, so that the animals fled away in all
directions. Only the mouse and the ermine remained where they
were, for they thought that they were much too small to be
noticed.
The fox continued his shrieks till he felt sure that the animals
must have got to a safe distance; then he crawled out of his
hiding-place and went to the bodies of the reindeer, which he now
had all to himself. He gathered a bundle of sticks for a fire,
and was just preparing to cook a steak, when his enemy, the Lapp,
came up, panting with haste and excitement.
'What are you doing there?' cried he; 'why did you palm off those
bones on me? And why, when you had got the reindeer, did you
kill them?'
'Dear brother,' answered the fox with a sob, 'do not blame me for
this misfortune. It is my comrades who have slain them in spite
of my prayers.'
The man made no reply, for the white fur of the ermine, who was
crouching with the mouse behind some stones, had just caught his
eye. He hastily seized the iron hook which hung over the fire
and flung it at the little creature; but the ermine was too quick
for him, and the hook only touched the top of its tail, and that
has remained black to this day. As for the mouse, the Lapp threw
a half-burnt stick after him, and though it was not enough to
hurt him, his beautiful white skin was smeared all over with it,
and all the washing in the world would not make him clean again.
And the man would have been wiser if he had let the ermine and
the mouse alone, for when he turned round again he found he was
alone.
Directly the fox noticed that his enemy's attention had wandered
from himself he watched his chance, and stole softly away till he
had reached a clump of thick bushes, when he ran as fast as he
could, till he reached a river, where a man was mending his boat.
'Stop your silly chatter!' answered the man crossly, 'or I will
give you a bath in the river.'
'I have won,' shouted the pike. 'Jump on my back, dear fox, and
you will find yourself in a trice on the opposite shore.'
'No, thank you,' answered the fox, 'your back is much too weak
for me. I should break it.'
'Try mine,' said the eel, who had wriggled to the front.
'No, thank you,' replied the fox again, 'I should slip over your
head and be drowned.'
'No; but you are really TOO rough,' returned the fox.
'Well, you can have no fault to find with ME,' put in the trout.
'Good gracious! are YOU here?' exclaimed the fox. 'But I'm
afraid to trust myself to you either.'
'Ah, yes, you are the person I want,' said the fox; 'but come
near, so that I may get on your back, without wetting my feet.'
So the salmon swam close under the island, and when he was
touching it the fox seized him in his claws and drew him out of
the water, and put him on a spit, while he kindled a fire to cook
him by. When everything was ready, and the water in the pot was
getting hot, he popped him in, and waited till he thought the
salmon was nearly boiled. But as he stooped down the water gave
a sudden fizzle, and splashed into the fox's eyes, blinding him.
He started backwards with a cry of pain, and sat still for some
minutes, rocking himself to and fro. When he was a little better
he rose and walked down a road till he met a grouse, who stopped
and asked what was the matter.
'Have you a pair of eyes anywhere about you?' asked the fox
politely.
A little while after the fox heard the buzzing of an early bee,
whom a gleam of sun had tempted out.
'Do you happen to have an extra pair of eyes anywhere?' asked the
fox.
'Well, if you only want them for a short time, perhaps I could
manage,' answered the asp; 'but I can't do without them for
long.'
'Oh, it is only for a very short time that I need them,' said the
fox; 'I have a pair of my own just behind that hill, and when I
find them I will bring yours back to you. Perhaps you will keep
these till them.' So he took the eyes out of his own head and
popped them into the head of the asp, and put the asp's eyes in
their place. As he was running off he cried over his shoulder:
'As long as the world lasts the asps' eyes will go down in the
heads of foxes from generation to generation.'
And so it has been; and if you look at the eyes of an asp you
will see that they are all burnt; and though thousands and
thousands of years have gone by since the fox was going about
playing tricks upon everybody he met, the asp still bears the
traces of the day when the sly creature cooked the salmon.
[Lapplandische Mahrchen.]
Once upon a time there lived a queen who had a beautiful cat, the
colour of smoke, with china-blue eyes, which she was very fond
of. The cat was constantly with her, and ran after her wherever
she went, and even sat up proudly by her side when she drove out
in her fine glass coach.
'Oh, pussy,' said the queen one day, 'you are happier than I am!
For you have a dear kitten just like yourself, and I have nobody
to play with but you.'
'Don't cry,' answered the cat, laying her paw on her mistress's
arm. 'Crying never does any good. I will see what can be done.'
The cat was as good as her word. As soon as she returned from
her drive she trotted off to the forest to consult a fairy who
dwelt there, and very soon after the queen had a little girl, who
seemed made out of snow and sunbeams. The queen was delighted,
and soon the baby began to take notice of the kitten as she
jumped about the room, and would not go to sleep at all unless
the kitten lay curled up beside her.
Two or three months went by, and though the baby was still a
baby, the kitten was fast becoming a cat, and one evening when,
as usual, the nurse came to look for her, to put her in the
baby's cot, she was nowhere to be found. What a hunt there was
for that kitten, to be sure! The servants, each anxious to find
her, as the queen was certain to reward the lucky man, searched
in the most impossible places. Boxes were opened that would
hardly have held the kitten's paw; books were taken from
bookshelves, lest the kitten should have got behind them, drawers
were pulled out, for perhaps the kitten might have got shut in.
But it was all no use. The kitten had plainly run away, and
nobody could tell if it would ever choose to come back.
Years passed away, and one day, when the princess was playing
ball in the garden, she happened to throw her ball farther than
usual, and it fell into a clump of rose-bushes. The princess of
course ran after it at once, and she was stooping down to feel if
it was hidden in the long grass, when she heard a voice calling
her: 'Ingibjorg! Ingibjorg!' it said, 'have you forgotten me? I
am Kisa, your sister!'
'Don't you remember how I always slept in your cot beside you,
and how you cried till I came? But girls have no memories at
all! Why, I could find my way straight up to that cot this
moment, if I was once inside the palace.'
'Why did you go away then?' asked the princess. But before Kisa
could answer, Ingibjorg's attendants arrived breathless on the
scene, and were so horrified at the sight of a strange cat, that
Kisa plunged into the bushes and went back to the forest.
The princess was very much vexed with her ladies-in-waiting for
frightening away her old playfellow, and told the queen who came
to her room every evening to bid her good-night.
'Yes, it is quite true what Kisa said,' answered the queen; 'I
should have liked to see her again. Perhaps, some day, she will
return, and then you must bring her to me.'
Next morning it was very hot, and the princess declared that she
must go and play in the forest, where it was always cool, under
the big shady trees. As usual, her attendants let her do
anything she pleased, and sitting down on a mossy bank where a
little stream tinkled by, soon fell sound asleep. The princess
saw with delight that they would pay no heed to her, and wandered
on and on, expecting every moment to see some fairies dancing
round a ring, or some little brown elves peeping at her from
behind a tree. But, alas! she met none of these; instead, a
horrible giant came out of his cave and ordered her to follow
him. The princess felt much afraid, as he was so big and ugly,
and began to be sorry that she had not stayed within reach of
help; but as there was no use in disobeying the giant, she walked
meekly behind.
They went a long way, and Ingibjorg grew very tired, and at
length began to cry.
'I don't like girls who make horrid noises,' said the giant,
turning round. 'But if you WANT to cry, I will give you
something to cry for.' And drawing an axe from his belt, he cut
off both her feet, which he picked up and put in his pocket.
Then he went away.
In the corner of the room was a pile of cushions, and these Kisa
arranged as a bed. Ingibjorg, who by this time was nearly
fainting from all she had gone through, drank greedily some milk,
and then sank back on the cushions while Kisa fetched some dried
herbs from a cupboard, soaked them in warm water and tied them on
the bleeding legs. The pain vanished at once, and Ingibjorg
looked up and smiled at Kisa.
'You will go to sleep now,' said the cat, 'and you will not mind
if I leave you for a little while. I will lock the door, and no
one can hurt you.' But before she had finished the princess was
asleep. Then Kisa got into the cart, which was standing at the
door, and catching up the reins, drove straight to the giant's
cave.
Leaving her cart behind some trees, Kisa crept gently up to the
open door, and, crouching down, listened to what the giant was
telling his wife, who was at supper with him.
'The first day that I can spare I shall just go back and kill
her,' he said; 'it would never do for people in the forest to
know that a mere girl can defy me!' And he and his wife were so
busy calling Ingibjorg all sorts of names for her bad behaviour,
that they never noticed Kisa stealing into a dark corner, and
upsetting a whole bag of salt into the great pot before the fire.
'So am I,' answered the wife. 'I do wish I had not taken that
last spoonful of broth; I am sure something was wrong with it.'
'If I don't get some water I shall die,' went on the giant. And
rushing out of the cave, followed by his wife, he ran down the
path which led to the river.
Then Kisa entered the hut, and lost no time in searching every
hole till she came upon some grass, under which Ingibjorg's feet
were hidden, and putting them in her cart, drove back again to
her own hut.
Ingibjorg was thankful to see her, for she had lain, too
frightened to sleep, trembling at every noise.
'Oh, is it you?' she cried joyfully, as Kisa turned the key. And
the cat came in, holding up the two neat little feet in their
silver slippers.
'In two minutes they shall be as tight as they ever were!' said
Kisa. And taking some strings of the magic grass which the giant
had carelessly heaped on them, she bound the feet on to the legs
above.
'Of course you won't be able to walk for some time; you must not
expect THAT,' she continued. 'But if you are very good, perhaps,
in about a week, I may carry you home again.'
And so she did; and when the cat drove the cart up to the palace
gate, lashing the horse furiously with her tail, and the king and
queen saw their lost daughter sitting beside her, they declared
that no reward could be too great for the person who had brought
her out of the giant's hands.
'We will talk about that by-and-by,' said the cat, as she made
her best bow, and turned her horse's head.
The princess was very unhappy when Kisa left her without even
bidding her farewell. She would neither eat nor drink, nor take
any notice of all the beautiful dresses her parents bought for
her.
'She will die, unless we can make her laugh,' one whispered to
the other. 'Is there anything in the world that we have left
untried?'
It took her some time to decide which she admired the most, but
at last she fixed upon a young prince, whose eyes were like the
pools in the forest, and his hair of bright gold. The king and
the queen were greatly pleased, as the young man was the son of a
neighbouring king, and they gave orders that a splendid feast
should be got ready.
When the marriage was over, Kisa suddenly stood before them, and
Ingibjorg rushed forward and clasped her in her arms.
'I have come to claim my reward,' said the cat. 'Let me sleep
for this night at the foot of your bed.'
'It is enough,' answered the cat. And when the morning dawned,
it was no cat that lay upon the bed, but a beautiful princess.
Then they were all more delighted than before, and the princess
lived in the court until she, too, married, and went away to
govern one of her own.
Far away on the other side of the world there lived, long ago, a
lion and his younger brother, the wild cat, who were so fond of
each other that they shared the same hut. The lion was much the
bigger and stronger of the two--indeed, he was much bigger and
stronger than any of the beasts that dwelt in the forest; and,
besides, he could jump father and run faster than all the rest.
If strength and swiftness could gain him a dinner he was sure
never to be without one, but when it came to cunning, both the
grizzly bear and the serpent could get the better of him, and he
was forced to call in the help of the wild cat.
Now the young wild cat had a lovely golden ball, so beautiful
that you could hardly look at it except through a piece of smoked
glass, and he kept it hidden in the thick fur muff that went
round his neck. A very large old animal, since dead, had given
it to him when he was hardly more than a baby, and had told him
never to part with it, for as long as he kept it no harm could
ever come near him.
In general the wild cat did not need to use his ball, for the
lion was fond of hunting, and could kill all the food that they
needed; but now and then his life would have been in danger had
it not been for the golden ball.
One day the two brothers started to hunt at daybreak, but as the
cat could not run nearly as fast as the lion, he had quite a long
start. At least he THOUGHT it was a long one, but in a very few
bounds and springs the lion reached his side.
'Ah, you are so big that he does not see I am behind you,'
answered the wild cat. And, touching the ball, he just said:
'Bear, die!' And the bear tumbled dead out of the tree, and
rolled over just in front of them.
For some time they trotted on without any adventures, till just
as they were about to cross a strip of long grass on the edge of
the forest, the lion's quick ears detected a faint rustling
noise.
'Oh, it is all right,' answered the cat. 'Snake, die!' And the
snake died, and the two brothers skinned it. They then folded
the skin up into a very small parcel, and the cat tucked it into
his mane, for snakes' skins can do all sorts of wonderful things,
if you are lucky enough to have one of them.
All this time they had had no dinner, for the snake's flesh was
not nice, and the lion did not like eating bear--perhaps because
he never felt sure that the bear was REALLY dead, and would not
jump up alive when his enemy went near him. Most people are
afraid of SOME thing, and bears and serpents were the only
creatures that caused the lion's heart to tremble. So the two
brothers set off again and soon reached the side of a hill where
some fine deer were grazing.
'Kill one of those deer for your own dinner,' said the boy-
brother, 'but catch me another alive. I want him.'
The lion at once sprang towards them with a loud roar, but the
deer bounded away, and they were all three soon lost to sight.
The cat waited for a long while, but finding that the lion did
not return, went back to the house where they lived.
It was quite dark when the lion came home, where his brother was
sitting curled up in one corner.
'Did you catch the deer for me?' asked the boy-brother, springing
up.
'Well, no,' replied the man-brother. 'The fact is, that I did
not get up to them till we had run half way across the world and
left the wind far behind us. Think what a trouble it would have
been to drag it here! So--I just ate them both.'
The cat said nothing, but he did not feel that he loved his big
brother. He had thought a great deal about that deer, and had
meant to get on his back to ride him as a horse, and go to see
all the wonderful places the lion talked to him about when he was
in a good temper. The more he thought of it the more sulky he
grew, and in the morning, when the lion said that it was time for
them to start to hunt, the cat told him that he might kill the
bear and snake by himself, as HE had a headache, and would rather
stay at home. The little fellow knew quite well that the lion
would not dare to go out without him and his ball for fear of
meeting a bear or a snake.
The quarrel went on, and for many days neither of the brothers
spoke to each other, and what made them still more cross was,
that they could get very little to eat, and we know that people
are often cross when they are hungry. At last it occurred to the
lion that if he could only steal the magic ball he could kill
bears and snakes for himself, and then the cat might be as sulky
as he liked for anything that it would matter. But how was the
stealing to be done? The cat had the ball hung round his neck
day and night, and he was such a light sleeper that it was
useless to think of taking it while he slept. No! the only thing
was to get him to lend it of his own accord, and after some days
the lion (who was not at all clever) hit upon a plan that he
thought would do.
'Dear me, how dull it is here!' said the lion one afternoon, when
the rain was pouring down in such torrents that, however sharp
your eyes or your nose might be, you could not spy a single bird
or beast among the bushes. 'Dear me, how dull, how dreadfully
dull I am. Couldn't we have a game of catch with that golden
ball of yours?'
'I don't care about playing catch, it does not amuse me,'
answered the cat, who was as cross as ever; for no cat, even to
this day, ever forgets an injury done to him.
'Well, then, lend me the ball for a little, and I will play by
myself,' replied the lion, stretching out a paw as he spoke.
'You can't play in the rain, and if you did, you would only lose
it in the bushes,' said the cat.
For a long while the lion tossed it up and down gaily, feeling
that, however sound asleep the boy-brother might LOOK, he was
sure to have one eye open; but gradually he began to edge closer
to the opening, and at last gave such a toss that the ball went
up high into the air, and he could not see what became of it.
After the loss of his ball the cat refused to live with the lion
any longer, but wandered away to the north, always hoping he
might meet with his ball again. But months passed, and years
passed, and though he travelled over hundreds of miles, he never
saw any traces of it.
'Oh! what a lovely ball!' cried she, and tried to catch it in her
pail; but the ball always kept bobbing just out of her reach.
'Come and help me!' she called to her sister, and after a long
while they had the ball safe inside the pail. They were
delighted with their new toy, and one or the other held it in her
hand till bedtime came, and then it was a long time before they
could make up their minds where it would be safest for the night.
At last they locked it in a cupboard in one corner of their room,
and as there was no hole anywhere the ball could not possibly get
out. After that they went to sleep.
In the morning the first thing they both did was to run to the
cupboard and unlock it, but when the door opened they started
back, for, instead of the ball, there stood a handsome young man.
'Ladies,' he said, 'how can I thank you for what you have done
for me? Long, long ago, I was enchanted by a wicked fairy, and
condemned to keep the shape of a ball till I should meet with two
maidens, who would take me to their own home. But where was I to
meet them? For hundreds of years I have lived in the depths of
the forest, where nothing but wild beasts ever came, and it was
only when the lion threw me into the sky that I was able to fall
to earth near this river. Where there is a river, sooner or
later people will come; so, hanging myself on a tree, I watched
and waited. For a moment I lost heart when I fell once more into
the hands of my old master the wild cat, but my hopes rose again
as I saw he was making for the river bank opposite where you were
standing. That was my chance, and I took it. And now, ladies, I
have only to say that, if ever I can do anything to help you, go
to the top of that high mountain and knock three times at the
iron door at the north side, and I will come to you.'
So, with a low bow, he vanished from before them, leaving the
maidens weeping at having lost in one moment both the ball and
the prince.
'You should just see what he does!' one said to her neighbour.
'He puts on the baby's frock upside down, and, one day, I found
him trying to feed her with boiling soup, and her mouth was
scalded for days after. Then he picks up stones in the road and
sows them instead of potatoes, and one day he wanted to go into
the garden from the top window, because he declared it was a
shorter way than through the door.'
So, about the time that she expected her husband home from work,
she got out her spinning-wheel, and sat busily turning it, taking
care not even to look up from her work when the man came in. For
some minutes he stood with his mouth open watching her, and as
she still remained silent, he said at last:
'Have you gone mad, wife, that you sit spinning without anything
on the wheel?'
'YOU may think that there is nothing on it,' answered she, 'but I
can assure you that there is a large skein of wool, so fine that
nobody can see it, which will be woven into a coat for you.'
'Dear me!' he replied, 'what a clever wife I have got! If you had
not told me I should never have known that there was any wool on
the wheel at all. But now I really do seem to see something.'
The woman smiled and was silent, and after spinning busily for an
hour more, she got up from her stoop, and began to weave as fast
as she could. At last she got up, and said to her husband: 'I am
too tired to finish it to-night, so I shall go to bed, and to-
morrow I shall only have the cutting and stitching to do.'
So the next morning she got up early, and after she had cleaned
her house, and fed her chickens, and put everything in its place
again, she bent over the kitchen table, and the sound of her big
scissors might be heard snip! snap! as far as the garden. Her
husband could not see anything to snip at; but then he was so
stupid that was not surprising!
After the cutting came the sewing. The woman patted and pinned
and fixed and joined, and then, turning to the man, she said:
'Now it is ready for you to try on.' And she made him take off
his coat, and stand up in front of her, and once more she patted
an pinned and fixed and joined, and was very careful in smoothing
out every wrinkle.
'It does not feel very warm,' observed the man at last, when he
had borne all this patiently for a long time.
He DID, but was ashamed to say so, and only answered: 'Well, I am
sure it must be beautiful since you say so, and I shall be
smarter than anyone in the whole village. "What a splendid
coat!" they will exclaim when they see me. But it is not
everybody who has a wife as clever as mine.'
Meanwhile the other wife was not idle. As soon as her husband
entered she looked at him with such a look of terror that the
poor man was quite frightened.
'Oh! go to bed at once,' she cried; 'you must be very ill indeed
to look like that!'
'If you sleep well during the might there MAY be a chance for
you,' said she, shaking her head, as she tucked him up warmly;
'but if not--' And of course the poor man never closed an eye
till the sun rose.
'Oh, bad; very bad indeed,' answered he; 'I have not slept for a
moment. Can you think of nothing to make me better?'
'I will try everything that is possible,' said the wife, who did
not in the least wish her husband to die, but was determined to
show that he was more foolish that the other man. 'I will get
some dried herbs and make you a drink, but I am very much afraid
that it is too late. Why did you not tell me before?'
'I thought perhaps the pain would go off in a day or two; and,
besides, I did not want to make you unhappy,' answered the man,
who was by this time quite sure he had been suffering tortures,
and had borne them like a hero. 'Of course, if I had had any
idea how ill I really was, I should have spoken at once.'
'Well, well, I will see what can be done,' said the wife, 'but
talking is not good for you. Lie still, and keep yourself warm.'
All that day the man lay in bed, and whenever his wife entered
the room and asked him, with a shake of the head, how he felt, he
always replied that he was getting worse. At last, in the
evening, she burst into tears, and when he inquired what was the
matter, she sobbed out:
'Oh, my poor, poor husband, are you really dead? I must go to-
morrow and order your coffin.'
Now, when the man heard this, a cold shiver ran through his body,
and all at once he knew that he was as well as he had ever been
in his life.
'Oh, no, no!' he cried, 'I feel quite recovered! Indeed, I think
I shall go out to work.'
'You will do no such thing,' replied his wife. 'Just keep quite
quiet, for before the sun rises you will be a dead man.'
The man was very frightened at her words, and lay absolutely
still while the undertaker came and measured him for his coffin;
and his wife gave orders to the gravedigger about his grave.
That evening the coffin was sent home, and in the morning at nine
o'clock the woman put him on a long flannel garment, and called
to the undertaker's men to fasten down the lid and carry him to
the grave, where all their friends were waiting them. Just as
the body was being placed in the ground the other woman's husband
came running up, dressed, as far as anyone could see, in no
clothes at all. Everybody burst into shouts of laughter at the
sight of him, and the men laid down the coffin and laughed too,
till their sides nearly split. The dead man was so astonished at
this behaviour, that he peeped out of a little window in the side
of the coffin, and cried out:
When they heard the voice coming from the coffin the other people
suddenly stopped laughing, and stood as if they had been turned
into stone. Then they rushed with one accord to the coffin, and
lifted the lid so that the man could step out amongst them.
'Were you really not dead after all?' asked they. 'And if not,
why did you let yourself be buried?'
At this the wives both confessed that they had each wished to
prove that her husband was stupider than the other. But the
villagers declared that they could not decide which was the most
foolish-- the man who allowed himself to be persuaded that he was
wearing fine clothes when he was dressed in nothing, or the man
who let himself be buried when he was alive and well.
Long, long ago, in the days when fairies, witches, giants and
ogres still visited the earth, there lived a king who reigned
over a great and beautiful country. He was married to a wife
whom he dearly loved, and had two most promising children--a son
called Asmund, and a daughter who was named Signy.
The king and queen were very anxious to bring their children up
well, and the young prince and princess were taught everything
likely to make them clever and accomplished. They lived at home
in their father's palace, and he spared no pains to make their
lives happy.
'Now,' said he to his sister, 'I will have the trees hollowed
out, and then I will make rooms in them and furnish them so that
I shall be able to live out in the forest.'
'Oh, Asmund!' exclaimed Signy, 'what a delightful idea! Do let me
come too, and live in one of your trees. I will bring all my
pretty things and ornaments, and the trees are so near home we
shall be quite safe in them.'
Now, I must tell you, in another country a long way off, there
reigned a king who had an only son named Ring. Prince Ring had
heard so much about the beauty and goodness of Princess Signy
that he determined to marry her if possible. So he begged his
father to let him have a ship for the voyage, set sail with a
favourable wind, and after a time landed in the country where
Signy lived.
The prince lost no time in setting out for the royal palace, and
on his way there he met such a wonderfully lovely woman that he
felt he had never seen such beauty in all his life. He stopped
her and at once asked who she was.
Then the prince inquired why she was wandering about all by
herself, and she told him that since her mother's death she was
so sad that whilst her father was away she preferred being alone.
Ring was quite deceived by her, and never guessed that she was
not Princess Signy at all, but a strong, gigantic, wicked witch
bent on deceiving him under a beautiful shape. He confided to
her that he had travelled all the way from his own country for
her sake, having fallen in love with the accounts he had heard of
her beauty, and he then and there asked her to be his wife.
Prince Ring did as she wished and went back to his ship to wait,
whilst she walked on into the forest till she reached the two oak
trees.
Here she resumed her own gigantic shape, tore up the trees by
their roots, threw one of them over her back and clasped the
other to her breast, carried them down to the shore and waded out
with them to the ship.
She took care not to be noticed as she reached the ship, and
directly she got on board she once more changed to her former
lovely appearance and told the prince that her luggage was now
all on board, and that they need wait for nothing more.
The prince gave orders to set sail at once, and after a fine
voyage landed in his own country, where his parents and his only
sister received him with the greatest joy and affection.
The false Signy was also very kindly welcomed. A beautiful house
was got ready for her, and Prince Ring had the two oaks planted
in the garden just in front of her windows so that she might have
the pleasure of seeing them constantly. He often went to visit
the witch, whom he believed to be Princess Signy, and one day he
asked: 'Don't you think we might be married before long?'
'Yes,' said she, quite pleased, 'I am quite ready to marry you
whenever you like.'
The prince had hardly left her before the witch resumed her
proper shape and tore about the room, raging and storming and
flinging the beautiful silk on the floor.
'What was SHE to do with such things?' she roared. 'SHE did not
know how to sew or make clothes, and she was sure to die of
starvation into the bargain if her brother Ironhead did not come
soon and bring her some raw meat and bones, for she really could
eat nothing else.'
As she was raving and roaring in this frantic manner part of the
floor suddenly opened and a huge giant rose up carrying a great
chest in his arms. The witch was enchanted at this sight, and
eagerly helped her brother to set down and open the chest, which
was full of the ghastly food she had been longing for. The
horrid pair set to and greedily devoured it all, and when the
chest was quite empty the giant put it on his shoulder and
disappeared as he had come, without leaving any trace of his
visit.
But his sister did not keep quiet for long, and tore and pulled
at the rich brocade as if she wanted to destroy it, stamping
about and shouting angrily.
Now, all this time Prince Asmund and his sister sat in their
trees just outside the window and saw all that was going on.
'Dear Signy,' said Asmund, 'do try to get hold of that piece of
brocade and make the clothes yourself, for really we shall have
no rest day or night with such a noise.'
'I will try,' said Signy; 'it won't be an easy matter, but it's
worth while taking some trouble to have a little peace.'
So she watched for an opportunity and managed to carry off the
brocade the first time the witch left her room. Then she set to
work, cutting out and sewing as best she could, and by the end of
six days she had turned it into an elegant robe with a long train
and a mantle. When it was finished she climbed to the top of her
tree and contrived to throw the clothes on to a table through the
open window.
How delighted the witch was when she found the clothes all
finished! The next time Prince Ring came to see her she gave them
to him, and he paid her many compliments on her skilful work,
after which he took leave of her in the most friendly manner.
But he had scarcely left the house when the witch began to rage
as furiously as ever, and never stopped till her brother Ironhead
appeared.
When Asmund saw all these wild doings from his tree he felt he
could no longer keep silence. He went to Prince Ring and said:
'Do come with me and see the strange things that are happening in
the new princess's room.'
When Prince Ring heard this he fell into such a rage that he
ordered the house to be set on fire, and it was burnt to the
ground, with the witch and her brother in it.
Asmund then told the prince about the two oak trees and took him
to see them. The prince was quite astonished at them and at all
their contents, but still more so at the extreme beauty of Signy.
He fell in love with her at once, and entreated her to marry him,
which, after a time, she consented to do. Asmund, on his side,
asked for the hand of Prince Ring's sister, which was gladly
granted him, and the double wedding was celebrated with great
rejoicings.
After this Prince Asmund and his bride returned to his country to
live with the king his father. The two couples often met, and
lived happily for many, many years. And that is the end of the
story.
Rubezahl
Over all the vast under-world the mountain Gnome Rubezahl was
lord; and busy enough the care of his dominions kept him. There
were the endless treasure chambers to be gone through, and the
hosts of gnomes to be kept to their tasks. Some built strong
barriers to hold back the fiery vapours to change dull stones to
precious metal, or were hard at work filling every cranny of the
rocks with diamonds and rubies; for Rubezahl loved all pretty
things. Sometimes the fancy would take him to leave those gloomy
regions, and come out upon the green earth for a while, and bask
in the sunshine and hear the birds sing. And as gnomes live many
hundreds of years he saw strange things. For, the first time he
came up, the great hills were covered with thick forests, in
which wild animals roamed, and Rubezahl watched the fierce fights
between bear and bison, or chased the grey wolves, or amused
himself by rolling great rocks down into the desolate valleys, to
hear the thunder of their fall echoing among the hills. But the
next time he ventured above ground, what was his surprise to find
everything changed! The dark woods were hewn down, and in their
place appeared blossoming orchards surrounding cosy-looking
thatched cottages; for every chimney the blue smoke curled
peacefully into the air, sheep and oxen fed in the flowery
meadows, while from the shade of the hedges came the music of the
shepherd's pipe. The strangeness and pleasantness of the sight
so delighted the gnome that he never thought of resenting the
intrusion of these unexpected guests, who, without saying 'by
your leave' or 'with your leave,' had made themselves so very
much at home upon is hills; nor did he wish to interfere with
their doings, but left them in quiet possession of their homes,
as a good householder leaves in peace the swallows who have built
their nests under his eaves. He was indeed greatly minded to
make friends with this being called 'man,' so, taking the form of
an old field labourer, he entered the service of a farmer. Under
his care all the crops flourished exceedingly, but the master
proved to be wasteful and ungrateful, and Rubezahl soon left him,
and went to be shepherd to his next neighbour. He tended the
flock so diligently, and knew so well where to lead the sheep to
the sweetest pastures, and where among the hills to look for any
who strayed away, that they too prospered under his care, and not
one was lost or torn by wolves; but this new master was a hard
man, and begrudged him his well-earned wages. So he ran away and
went to serve the judge. Here he upheld the law with might and
main, and was a terror to thieves and evildoers; but the judge
was a bad man, who took bribes, and despised the law. Rubezahl
would not be the tool of an unjust man, and so he told his
master, who thereupon ordered him to be thrown in prison. Of
course that did not trouble the gnome at all, he simply got out
through the keyhole, and went away down to his underground
palace, very much disappointed by his first experience of
mankind. But, as time went on, he forgot the disagreeable things
that had happened to him, and thought he would take another look
at the upper world.
At last, when they were quite weary, the princess cried out
suddenly that nothing would content her but to bathe in the
marble pool, which certainly did look very inviting; and they all
went gaily to this new amusement. The princess was ready first,
but scarcely had she slipped over the rim of the pool when down--
down--down she sank, and vanished in its depths before her
frightened playmates could seize her by so much as a lock of her
floating golden hair!
Loudly did they weep and wail, running about the brink of the
pool, which looked so shallow and so clear, but which had
swallowed up their princess before their eyes. They even sprang
into the water and tried to dive after her, but in vain; they
only floated like corks in the enchanted pool, and could not keep
under water for a second.
They saw at last that there was nothing for it but to carry to
the king the sad tidings of his beloved daughter's disappearance.
And what great weeping and lamentation there was in the palace
when the dreadful news was told! The king tore his robes, dashed
his golden crown from his head, and hid his face in his purple
mantle for grief and anguish at the loss of the princess. After
the first outburst of wailing, however, he took heart and hurried
off to see for himself the scene of this strange adventure,
thinking, as people will in sorrow, that there might be some
mistake after all. But when he reached the spot, behold, all was
changed again! The glittering grotto described to him by the
maidens had completely vanished, and so had the marble bath, the
bower of jasmine; instead, all was a tangle of flowers, as it had
been of old. The king was so much perplexed that he threatened
the princess's playfellows with all sorts of punishments if they
would not confess something about her disappearance; but as they
only repeated the same story he presently put down the whole
affair to the work of some sprite or goblin, and tried to console
himself for his loss by ordering a grand hunt; for kings cannot
bear to be troubled about anything long.
And now all went cheerfully in the castle. The princess gave to
each of the maidens her task, and never was mistress better
served. For a whole week she enjoyed the delight of her pleasant
company undisturbed. They all sang, they danced, they played
from morning to night; only the princess noticed that day by day
the fresh young faces of her maidens grew pale and wan, and the
mirror in the great marble hall showed her that she alone still
kept her rosy bloom, while Brunhilda and the rest faded visibly.
They assured her that all was well with them; but, nevertheless,
they continued to waste away, and day by day it became harder to
them to take part in the games of the princess, till at last, one
fine morning, when the princess started from bed and hastened out
to join her gay playfellows, she shuddered and started back at
the sight of a group of shrivelled crones, with bent backs and
trembling limbs, who supported their tottering steps with staves
and crutches, and coughed dismally. A little nearer to the
hearth lay the once frolicsome Beni, with all four feet stretched
stiffly out, while the sleek cat seemed too weak to raise his
head from his velvet cushion.
The horrified princess fled to the door to escape from the sight
of this mournful company, and called loudly for the gnome, who
appeared at once, humbly anxious to do her bidding.
So saying the gnome took himself off. And the princess with her
magic wand touched the wrinkled old women, and left them the
withered roots they really were, to be thrown upon the rubbish
heap; and with light feet skipped off across to the meadow to
take possession of the freshly filled basket. But to her
surprise she could not find it anywhere. Up and down the garden
she searched, spying into every corner, but not a sign of it was
to be found. By the trellis of grape vines she met the gnome,
who was so much embarrassed at the sight of her that she became
aware of his confusion while he was still quite a long way off.
'You are trying to tease me,' she cried, as soon as she saw him.
'Where have you hidden the basket? I have been looking for it at
least an hour.'
The gnome tried hard by every means in his power to please the
princess and win her love, but little did he guess the real
reason of his lack of success. He imagined that she was too
young and inexperienced to care for him; but that was a mistake,
for the truth was that another image already filled her heart.
The young Prince Ratibor, whose lands joined her father's, had
won the heart of the princess; and the lovers had been looking
forward to the coming of their wedding-day when the bride's
mysterious disappearance took place. The sad news drove Ratibor
distracted, and as the days went on, and nothing could be heard
of the princess, he forsook his castle and the society of men,
and spent his days in the wild forests, roaming about and crying
her name aloud to the trees and rocks. Meanwhile, the maiden, in
her gorgeous prison, sighed in secret over her grief, not wishing
to arouse the gnome's suspicions. In her own mind she was
wondering if by any means she might escape from her captivity,
and at last she hit upon a plan.
By this time spring once more reigned in the valley, and the
gnome sent the fires back to their places in the deeps of the
earth, for the roots which they had kept warm through all the
cruel winter hand now come to their full size. Day by day the
princess pulled up some of them, and made experiments with them,
conjuring up now this longed-for person, and now that, just for
the pleasure of seeing them as they appeared; but she really had
another purpose in view.
One day she changed a tiny turnip into a bee, and sent him off to
bring her some news of her lover.
'Fly, dear little bee, towards the east,' said she, 'to my
beloved Ratibor, and softly hum into his ear that I love him
only, but that I am a captive in the gnome's palace under the
mountains. Do not forget a single word of my greeting, and bring
me back a message from my beloved.'
So the bee spread his shining wings and flew away to do as he was
bidden; but before he was out of sight a greedy swallow made a
snatch at him, and to the great grief of the princess her
messenger was eaten up then and there.
These two unlucky ventures did not prevent the princess from
trying once more.
'Flutter from tree to tree, chattering bird,' said she, 'till you
come to Ratibor, my love. Tell him that I am a captive, and bid
him come with horses and men, the third day from this, to the
hill that rises from the Thorny Valley.'
Now Prince Ratibor was still spending his life in wandering about
the woods, and not even the beauty of the spring could soothe his
grief.
'Poor chatterpie,' said he; 'who taught you to say that name,
which belongs to an unlucky mortal who wishes the earth would
open and swallow up him and his memory for ever?'
But the magpie in the tree, who, like all the rest of his family,
was not happy unless he could be for ever chattering, began to
repeat the message the princess had taught him; and as soon as he
understood it, Prince Ratibor's heart was filed with joy. All
his gloom and misery vanished in a moment, and he anxiously
questioned the welcome messenger as to the fate of the princess.
But the magpie knew no more than the lesson he had learnt, so he
soon fluttered away; while the prince hurried back to his castle
to gather together a troop of horsemen, full of courage for
whatever might befall.
So saying he would have drawn aside her veil; but the princess
only held it more closely about her.
'Your constancy has overcome me,' she said; 'I can no longer
oppose your wishes. But believe my words, and suffer this veil
still to hide my blushes and tears.'
'Why tears, beloved one?' cried the gnome anxiously; 'every tear
of yours falls upon my heart like a drop of molten gold. Greatly
as I desire your love, I do not ask a sacrifice.'
'Be it so,' answered the crafty maiden. 'Then give me just one
proof of your goodness. Go! count the turnips in yonder meadow.
My wedding feast must not lack guests. They shall provide me
with bride-maidens too. But beware lest you deceive me, and do
not miss a single one. That shall be the test of your truth
towards me.'
As for the maiden, no sooner was her deluded lover fairly out of
sight than she began to prepare for flight. She had a fine fresh
turnip hidden close at hand, which she changed into a spirited
horse, all saddled and bridled, and, springing upon its back, she
galloped away over hill and dale till she reached the Thorny
Valley, and flung herself into the arms of her beloved Prince
Ratibor.
Meanwhile the toiling gnome went through his task over and over
again till his back ached and his head swam, and he could no
longer put two and two together; but as he felt tolerably certain
of the exact number of turnips in the field, big and little
together, he hurried back eager to prove to his beloved one what
a delightful and submissive husband he would be. He felt very
well satisfied with himself as he crossed the mossy lawn to the
place where he had left her; but, alas! she was no longer there.
Furiously did the enraged gnome fling two great clouds together,
and hurl a thunderbolt after the flying maiden, splintering the
rocky barriers which had stood a thousand years. But his fury
was vain, the thunderclouds melted away into a soft mist, and the
gnome, after flying about for a while in despair, bewailing to
the four winds his unhappy fate, went sorrowfully back to the
palace, and stole once more through every room, with many sighs
and lamentations. He passed through the gardens which for him
had lost their charm, and the sight of the princess's footprints
on the golden sand of the pathway renewed his grief. All was
lonely, empty, sorrowful; and the forsaken gnome resolved that he
would have no more dealings with such false creatures as he had
found men to be.
Thereupon he stamped three times upon the earth, and the magic
palace, with all its treasures, vanished away into the
nothingness out of which he had called it; and the gnome fled
once more to the depths of his underground kingdom.
While all this was happening, Prince Ratibor was hurrying away
with his prize to a place of safety. With great pomp and triumph
he restored the lovely princess to her father, and was then and
there married to her, and took her back with him to his own
castle.
But long after she was dead, and her children too, the villagers
would tell the tale of her imprisonment underground, as they sat
carving wood in the winter nights.
One day his queen presented him with a baby daughter as beautiful
as the dawn, and the king himself was so happy and delighted
that, for a whole week, he forgot to hunt, and spent the time in
public and private rejoicing.
Not long afterwards, however, he went out after some deer which
were to be found in a far corner of his forests. In the course
of the beat his dogs disturbed a beautiful snow-white stag, and
directly he saw it the king determined that he would have it at
any cost. So he put the spurs to his horse, and followed it as
hard as he could gallop. Of course all his attendants followed
at the best speed that they could manage; but the king was so
splendidly mounted, and the stag was so swift, that, at the end
of an hour, the king found that only his favourite hound and
himself were in the chase; all the rest were far, far behind and
out of sight.
All this was very discouraging, but the king would not have
minded if he had not lost that beautiful stag. That troubled him
a good deal, but he never worried over what he could not help, so
he got down from his horse, slipped his arm through the bridle,
and led the animal along the rough path in hopes of discovering
some shepherd's hut, or, at least, a cave or shelter under some
rock, where he might pass the night.
'Peace be upon you,' said the king, giving the usual country
salutation.
'And upon you peace,' answered the hermit; but still he never
looked up, nor stopped what he was doing.
For a minute or two the king stood watching him. He noticed that
the hermit threw two leaves in at a time, and watched them
attentively. Sometimes both were carried rapidly down by the
stream; sometimes only one leaf was carried off, and the other,
after whirling slowly round and round on the edge of the current,
would come circling back on an eddy to the hermit's feet. At
other times both leaves were held in the backward eddy, and
failed to reach the main current of the noisy stream
'What are you doing?' asked the king at last, and the hermit
replied that he was reading the fates of men; every one's fate,
he said, was settled from the beginning, and, whatever it were,
there was no escape from it. The king laughed.
'I care little,' he said, 'what my fate may be; but I should be
curious to know the fate of my little daughter.'
'I might know,' returned the hermit, 'but it is not always wisdom
to know much.'
But the king was not content with this reply, and began to press
the old man to say what he knew, which for a long time he would
not do. At last, however, the king urged him so greatly that he
said:
The king was wild with anger at hearing these words, but he was
also very tired; so he only laughed, and answered that he hoped
there would be a way out of THAT fate anyhow. Then he asked if
the hermit could shelter him and his beasts for the night, and
the hermit said 'Yes'; so, very soon the king had watered and
tethered his horse, and, after a supper of bread and parched
peas, lay down in the cave, with the hound at his feet, and tried
to go to sleep. But instead of sleeping he only lay awake and
thought of the hermit's prophecy; and the more he thought of it
the angrier he felt, until he gnashed his teeth and declared that
it should never, never come true.
Morning came, and the king got up, pale and sulky, and, after
learning from the hermit which path to take, was soon mounted and
found his way home without much difficulty. Directly he reached
his palace he wrote a letter to the king of the land of the
north, begging him, as a favour, to sell him his slave girl
Puruna and her son, and saying that, if he consented, he would
send a messenger to receive them at the river which divided the
kingdoms.
For five days he awaited the reply, and hardly slept or ate, but
was as cross as could be all the time. On the fifth day his
messenger returned with a letter to say that the king of the land
of the north would not sell, but he would give, the king the
slave girl and her son. The king was overjoyed. He sent for his
Grand Wazeer and told him that he was going on one of his lonely
expeditions, and that the Wazeer must invent some excuse to
account for his absence. Next he disguised himself as an
ordinary messenger, mounted a swift camel, and sped away to the
place where the slave girl was to be handed over to him. When he
got there he gave the messengers who brought her a letter of
thanks and a handsome present for their master and rewards for
themselves; and then without delay he took the poor woman and her
tiny baby-boy up on to his camel and rode off to a wild desert.
One evening the old woman was astonished to find that her very
best nanny-goat returned without a drop of milk. She thought
that some naughty boy or girl was playing a trick upon her and
had caught the goat on its way home and stolen all the milk. But
when evening after evening the goat remained almost dry she
determined to find out who the thief was. So the next day she
followed the goats at a distance and watched them while they
grazed. At length, in the afternoon, the old woman noticed this
particular nanny-goat stealing off by herself away from the herd
and she at once went after her. On and on the goat walked for
some way, and then disappeared into a cave in the rocks. The old
woman followed the goat into the cave and then, what should she
see but the animal giving her milk to a little boy-baby, whilst
on the ground near by lay the sad remains of the baby's dead
mother! Wondering and frightened, the old woman thought at last
that this little baby might be a son to her in her old age, and
that he would grow up and in time to come be her comfort and
support. So she carried home the baby to her hut, and next day
she took a spade to the cave and dug a grave where she buried the
poor mother.
Years passed by, and the baby grew up into a find handsome lad,
as daring as he was beautiful, and as industrious as he was
brave. One day, when the boy, whom the old woman had named Nur
Mahomed, was about seventeen years old, he was coming from his
day's work in the fields, when he saw a strange donkey eating the
cabbages in the garden which surround their little cottage.
Seizing a big stick, he began to beat the intruder and to drive
him out of his garden. A neighbour passing by called out to him-
-'Hi! I say! why are you beating the pedlar's donkey like that?'
'The pedlar should keep him from eating my cabbages,' said Nur
Mahomed; 'if he comes this evening here again I'll cut off his
tail for him!'
A few days later, the pedlar having moved on, two men appeared in
the village inquiring who it was who had threatened to ill-treat
and to murder an innocent pedlar. They declared that the pedlar,
in fear of his life, had complained to the king; and that they
had been sent to bring the lawless person who had said these
things before the king himself. Of course they soon found out
about the donkey eating Nur Mahomed's cabbages, and about the
young man's hot words; but although the lad assured them that he
had never said anything about murdering anyone, they replied they
were ordered to arrest him, and bring him to take his trial
before the king. So, in spite of his protests, and the wails of
his mother, he was carried off, and in due time brought before
the king. Of course Nur Mahomed never guessed that the supposed
pedlar happened to have been the king himself, although nobody
knew it.
'His mother?' said the king; 'you are too old, surely, to have so
young a son!'
Then the old woman, in her fright and distress, confessed the
whole story of how she found the baby, and how she rescued and
brought him up, and ended by beseeching the king for mercy.
It is easy to guess how, as the story came out, the king looked
blacker and blacker, and more and more grim, until at last he was
half fainting with rage and astonishment. This, then, was the
baby he had left to die, after cruelly murdering his mother!
Surely fate might have spared him this! He wished he had
sufficient excuse to put the boy to death, for the old hermit's
prophecy came back to him as strongly as ever; and yet the young
man had done nothing bad enough to deserve such a punishment.
Everyone would call him a tyrant if he were to give such an
order--in fact, he dared not try it!
Thus it was not very surprising that, before very long, he became
enrolled amongst the picked men of the king's bodyguard. The
fact is, that the king had hoped to have got him killed in some
fight or another; but, seeing that, on the contrary, he throve on
hard knocks, he was now determined to try more direct and
desperate methods.
One day, soon after Nur Mahomed had entered the bodyguard, he was
selected to be one of the soldiers told off to escort the king
through the city. The procession was marching on quite smoothly,
when a man, armed with a dagger, rushed out of an alley straight
towards the king. Nur Mahomed, who was the nearest of the
guards, threw himself in the way, and received the stab that had
been apparently intended for the king. Luckily the blow was a
hurried one, and the dagger glanced on is breastbone, so that,
although he received a severe wound, his youth and strength
quickly got the better of it. The king was, of course, obliged
to take some notice of this brave deed, and as a reward made him
one of his own attendants.
After this the strange adventures the young man passed through
were endless. Officers of the bodyguard were often sent on all
sorts of secret and difficult errands, and such errands had a
curious way of becoming necessary when Nur Mahomed was on duty.
Once, while he was taking a journey, a foot-bridge gave way under
him; once he was attacked by armed robbers; a rock rolled down
upon him in a mountain pass; a heavy stone coping fell from a
roof at his feet in a narrow city alley. Altogether, Nur Mahomed
began to think that, somewhere or other, he had made an enemy;
but he was light-hearted, and the thought did not much trouble
him. He escaped somehow every time, and felt amused rather than
anxious about the next adventure.
It was the custom of that city that the officer for the day of
the palace guards should receive all his food direct from the
king's kitchen. One day, when Nur Mahomed's turn came to be on
duty, he was just sitting down to a delicious stew that had been
sent in from the palace, when one of those gaunt, hungry dogs,
which, in eastern countries, run about the streets, poked his
nose in at the open guard-room door, and looked at Nur Mahomed
with mouth watering and nostrils working. The kind-hearted young
man picked out a lump of meat, went to the door, and threw it
outside to him. The dog pounced upon it, and gulped it down
greedily, and was just turning to go, when it staggered, fell,
rolled over, and died. Nur Mahomed, who had been lazily watching
him, stood still for a moment, then he came back whistling
softly. He gathered up the rest of his dinner and carefully
wrapped it up to carry away and bury somewhere; and then he sent
back the empty plates.
How furious the king was when, at the next morning's durbar, Nur
Mahomed appeared before him fresh, alert and smiling as usual.
He was determined, however, to try once more, and bidding the
young man come into his presence that evening, gave orders that
he was to carry a secret despatch to the governor of a distant
province. 'Make your preparations at once,' added he, 'and be
ready to start in the morning. I myself will deliver you the
papers at the last moment.'
Now this province was four or five days' journey from the palace,
and the governor of it was the most faithful servant the king
had. He could be silent as the grave, and prided himself on his
obedience. Whilst he was an old and tried servant of the king's,
his wife had been almost a mother to the young princess ever
since the queen had died some years before. It happened that, a
little before this time, the princess had been sent away for her
health to another remote province; and whilst she was there her
old friend, the governor's wife, had begged her to come and stay
with them as soon as she could.
The weather was very hot; but Nur Mahomed thought that the sooner
his precious letter was delivered the better; so that, by dint of
riding most of each night and resting only in the hottest part of
the day, he found himself, by noon on the third day, approaching
the town which was his final destination.
Not a soul was to be seen anywhere; and Nur Mahomed, stiff, dry,
thirsty, and tired, looked longingly over the wall into the
gardens, and marked the fountains, the green grass, the shady
apricot orchards, and giant mulberry trees, and wished he were
there.
Every day, through the heat of the afternoon, the governor, and
his wife also, used to lie down for two or three hours in their
own rooms, and so, for the matter of that, did most people in the
palace. But the princess, like many other girls, was restless,
and preferred to wander about the garden, rather than rest on a
pile of soft cushions. What a torment her stout old attendants
and servants sometime thought her when she insisted on staying
awake, and making them chatter or do something, when they could
hardly keep their eyes open! Sometimes, however, the princess
would pretend to go to sleep, and then, after all her women had
gladly followed her example, she would get up and go out by
herself, her veil hanging loosely about her. If she was
discovered her old hostess scolded her severely; but the princess
only laughed, and did the same thing next time.
This very afternoon the princess had left all her women asleep,
and, after trying in vain to amuse herself indoors, she had
slipped out into the great garden, and rambled about in all her
favourite nooks and corners, feeling quite safe as there was not
a creature to be seen. Suddenly, on turning a corner, she
stopped in surprise, for before her lay a man fast asleep! In her
hurry she had almost tripped over him. But there he was, a young
man, tanned and dusty with travel, in the uniform of an officer
of the king's guard. One of the few faults of this lovely
princess was a devouring curiosity, and she lived such an idle
life that she had plenty of time to be curious. Out of one of
the folds of this young man's turban there peeped the corner of a
letter! She wondered what the letter was--whom it was for! She
drew her veil a little closer, and stole across on tip-toe and
caught hold of the corner of the letter. Then she pulled it a
little, and just a little more! A great big seal came into view,
which she saw to be her father's, and at the sight of it she
paused for a minute half ashamed of what she was doing. But the
pleasure of taking a letter which was not meant for her was more
than she could resist, and in another moment it was in her hand.
All at once she remembered that it would be death to this poor
officer if he lost the letter, and that at all hazards she must
put it back again. But this was not so easy; and, moreover, the
letter in her hand burnt her with longing to read it, and see
what was inside. She examined the seal. It was sticky with
being exposed to the hot sun, and with a very little effort it
parted from the paper. The letter was open and she read it! And
this was what was written:
The girl grew pale. What a shame! she thought. SHE would not
let a handsome young fellow like that be beheaded; but how to
prevent it was not quite clear at the moment. Some plan must be
invented, and she wished to lock herself in where no one could
interrupt her, as might easily happen in the garden. So she
crept softly to her room, and took a piece of paper and wrote
upon it: 'Marry the messenger who brings this letter to the
princess openly at once. Ask no questions.' And even contrived
to work the seals off the original letter and to fix them to
this, so that no one could tell, unless they examined it closely,
that it had ever been opened. Then she slipped back, shaking
with fear and excitement, to where the young officer still lay
asleep, thrust the letter into the fold so his turban, and
hurried back to her room. It was done!
Late in the afternoon Nur Mahomed woke, and, making sure that the
precious despatch was still safe, went off to get ready for his
audience with the governor. As soon as he was ushered into his
presence he took the letter from his turban and placed it in the
governor's hands according to orders. When he had read it the
governor was certainly a little astonished; but he was told in
the letter to 'ask no questions,' and he knew how to obey orders.
He sent for his wife and told her to get the princess ready to be
married at once.
In vain did his wife urge every objection; the more she argued,
the more determined was her husband. 'I know how to obey
orders,' he said, 'and these are as plain as the nose on my
face!' So the princess was summoned, and, somewhat to their
surprise, she seemed to take the news very calmly; next Nur
Mahomed was informed, and he was greatly startled, but of course
he could but be delighted at the great and unexpected honour
which he thought the king had done him. Then all the castle was
turned upside down; and when the news spread in the town, THAT
was turned upside down too. Everybody ran everywhere, and tried
to do everything at once; and, in the middle of it all, the old
governor went about with his hair standing on end, muttering
something about 'obeying orders.'
And so the marriage was celebrated, and there was a great feast
in the castle, and another in the soldiers' barracks, and
illuminations all over the town and in the beautiful gardens.
And all the people declared that such a wonderful sight had never
been seen, and talked about it to the ends of their lives.
The next day the governor despatched the princess and her
bridegroom to the king, with a troop of horsemen, splendidly
dressed, and he sent a mounted messenger on before them, with a
letter giving the account of the marriage to the king.
When the king got the governor's letter, he grew so red in the
face that everyone thought he was going to have apoplexy. They
were all very anxious to know what had happened, but he rushed
off and locked himself into a room, where he ramped and raved
until he was tired. Then, after awhile, he began to think he had
better make the best of it, especially as the old governor had
been clever enough to send him back his letter, and the king was
pretty sure that this was in the princess's handwriting. He was
fond of his daughter, and though she had behaved badly, he did
not wish to cut HER head off, and he did not want people to know
the truth because it would make him look foolish. In fact, the
more he considered the matter, the more he felt that he would be
wise to put a good face on it, and to let people suppose that he
had really brought about the marriage of his own free will.
So, when the young couple arrived, the king received them with
all state, and gave his son-in-law a province to govern. Nur
Mahomed soon proved himself as able and honourable a governor as
he was a brave soldier; and, when the old king died, he became
king in his place, and reigned long and happily.
Nur Mahomed's old mother lived for a long time in her 'son's'
palace, and died in peace. The princess, his wife, although she
had got her husband by a trick, found that she could not trick
HIM, and so she never tried, but busied herself in teaching her
children and scolding her maids. As for the old hermit, no trace
of him was ever discovered; but the cave is there, and the leaves
lie thick in front of it unto this day.
Once upon a time there lived a poor old man whose name was Wali
Dad Gunjay, or Wali Dad the Bald. He had no relations, but lived
all by himself in a little mud hut some distance from any town,
and made his living by cutting grass in the jungle, and selling
it as fodder for horses. He only earned by this five halfpence a
day; but he was a simple old man, and needed so little out of it,
that he saved up one halfpenny daily, and spent the rest upon
such food and clothing as he required.
In this way he lived for many years until, one night, he thought
that he would count the money he had hidden away in the great
earthen pot under the floor of his hut. So he set to work, and
with much trouble he pulled the bag out on to the floor, and sat
gazing in astonishment at the heap of coins which tumbled out of
it. What should he do with them all? he wondered. But he never
thought of spending the money on himself, because he was content
to pass the rest of his days as he had been doing for ever so
long, and he really had no desire for any greater comfort or
luxury.
At last he threw all the money into an old sack, which he pushed
under his bead, and then, rolled in his ragged old blanket, he
went off to sleep.
Early next morning he staggered off with his sack of money to the
shop of a jeweller, whom he knew in the town, and bargained with
him for a beautiful little gold bracelet. With this carefully
wrapped up in his cotton waistband he went to the house of a rich
friend, who was a travelling merchant, and used to wander about
with his camels and merchandise through many countries. Wali Dad
was lucky enough to find him at home, so he sat down, and after a
little talk he asked the merchant who was the most virtuous and
beautiful lady he had ever met with. The merchant replied that
the princess of Khaistan was renowned everywhere as well for the
beauty of her person as for the kindness and generosity of her
disposition.
'Then,' said Wali Dad, 'next time you go that way, give her this
little bracelet, with the respectful compliments of one who
admires virtue far more than he desires wealth.'
With that he pulled the bracelet from his waistband, and handed
it to his friend. The merchant was naturally much astonished,
but said nothing, and made no objection to carrying out his
friend's plan.
Time passed by, and at length the merchant arrived in the course
of his travels at the capital of Khaistan. As soon as he had
opportunity he presented himself at the palace, and sent in the
bracelet, neatly packed in a little perfumed box provided by
himself, giving at the same time the message entrusted to him by
Wali Dad.
The princess could not think who could have bestowed this present
on her, but she bade her servant to tell the merchant that if he
would return, after he had finished his business in the city, she
would give him her reply. In a few days, therefore, the merchant
came back, and received from the princess a return present in the
shape of a camel-load or rich silks, besides a present of money
for himself. With these he set out on his journey.
Some months later he got home again from his journeyings, and
proceeded to take Wali Dad the princess's present. Great was the
perplexity of the good man to find a camel-load of silks tumbled
at his door! What was he to do with these costly things? But,
presently, after much thought, he begged the merchant to consider
whether he did not know of some young prince to whom such
treasures might be useful.
'Very well, then, take the silks to him, with the blessing of an
old man,' said Wali Dad, much relieved to be rid of them.
So, the next time that the merchant journeyed that way he carried
the silks with him, and in due course arrived at Nekabad, and
sought an audience of the prince. When he was shown into his
presence he produced the beautiful gift of silks that Wali Dad
had sent, and begged the young man to accept them as a humble
tribute to his worth and greatness. The prince was much touched
by the generosity of the giver, and ordered, as a return present,
twelve of the finest breed of horses for which his country was
famous to be delivered over to the merchant, to whom also, before
he took his leave, he gave a munificent reward for his services.
'Well,' said the king, 'you cannot refuse them; so the best thing
you can do is to send this unknown friend at once a present so
magnificent that he is not likely to be able to send you anything
better, and so will be ashamed to send anything at all!' Then he
ordered that, in place of each of the ten horses, two mules laden
with silver should be returned by her.
'Well, now,' cried Wali Dad, as he viewed all the wealth laid at
his door, 'I can well repay that kind prince for his magnificent
present of horses; but to be sure you have been put to great
expenses! Still, if you will accept six mules and their loads,
and will take the rest straight to Nekabad, I shall thank you
heartily.'
The merchant felt handsomely repaid for his trouble, and wondered
greatly how the matter would turn out. So he made no difficulty
about it; and as soon as he could get things ready, he set out
for Nekabad with this new and princely gift.
This time the prince, too, was embarrassed, and questioned the
merchant closely. The merchant felt that his credit was at
stake, and whilst inwardly determining that he would not carry
the joke any further, could not help describing Wali Dad in such
glowing terms that the old man would never have known himself had
he heard them. The prince, like the king of Khaistan, determined
that he would send in return a gift that would be truly royal,
and which would perhaps prevent the unknown giver sending him
anything more. So he made up a caravan on twenty splendid horses
caparisoned in gold embroidered cloths, with fine morocco saddles
and silver bridles and stirrups, also twenty camels of the best
breed, which had the speed of race-horses, and could swing along
at a trot all day without getting tired; and, lastly, twenty
elephants, with magnificent silver howdahs and coverings of silk
embroidered with pearls. To take care of these animals the
merchant hired a little army of men; and the troop made a great
show as they travelled along.
When Wali Dad from a distance saw the cloud of dust which the
caravan made, and the glitter of its appointments, he said to
himself: 'By Allah! here's a grand crowd coming! Elephants, too!
Grass will be selling well to-day!' And with that he hurried off
to the jungle and cut grass as fast as he could. As soon as he
got back he found the caravan had stopped at his door, and the
merchant was waiting, a little anxiously, to tell him the news
and to congratulate him upon his riches.
'Riches!' cried Wali Dad, 'what has an old man like me with one
foot in the grave to do with riches? That beautiful young
princess, now! She'd be the one to enjoy all these fine things!
Do you take for yourself two horses, two camels, and two
elephants, with all their trappings, and present the rest to
her.'
So, after a few days' rest, the caravan started off once more for
Khaistan.
The moment the king of Khaistan saw the gorgeous train of men and
beasts entering his palace courtyard, he was so amazed that he
hurried down in person to inquire about it, and became dumb when
he heard that these also were a present from the princely Wali
Dad, and were for the princess, his daughter. He went hastily
off to her apartments, and said to her: 'I tell you what it is,
my dear, this man wants to marry you; that is the meaning of all
these presents! There is nothing for it but that we go and pay
him a visit in person. He must be a man of immense wealth, and
as he is so devoted to you, perhaps you might do worse than marry
him!'
The princess agreed with all that her father said, and orders
were issued for vast numbers of elephants and camels, and
gorgeous tents and flags, and litters for the ladies, and horses
for the men, to be prepared without delay, as the king and
princess were going to pay a visit to the great and munificent
prince Wali Dad. The merchant, the king declared, was to guide
the party.
The feelings of the poor merchant in this sore dilemma can hardly
be imagined. Willingly would he have run away; but he was
treated with so much hospitality as Wali Dad's representative,
that he hardly got an instant's real peace, and never any
opportunity of slipping away. In fact, after a few days, despair
possessed him to such a degree that he made up his mind that all
that happened was fate, and that escape was impossible; but he
hoped devoutly some turn of fortune would reveal to him a way out
of the difficulties which he had, with the best intentions, drawn
upon himself.
Day after day they moved on, and every day the poor merchant felt
more ill and miserable. He wondered what kind of death the king
would invent for him, and went through almost as much torture, as
he lay awake nearly the whole of every night thinking over the
situation, as he would have suffered if the king's executioners
were already setting to work upon his neck.
At last they were only one day's march from Wali Dad's little mud
home. Here a great encampment was made, and the merchant was
sent on to tell Wali Dad that the King and Princess of Khaistan
had arrived and were seeking an interview. When the merchant
arrived he found the poor old man eating his evening meal of
onions and dry bread, and when he told him of all that had
happened he had not the heart to proceed to load him with the
reproaches which rose to his tongue. For Wali Dad was
overwhelmed with grief and shame for himself, for his friend, and
for the name and honour of the princess; and he wept and plucked
at his beard, and groaned most piteously. With tears he begged
the merchant to detain them for one day by any kind of excuse he
could think of, and to come in the morning to discuss what they
should do.
As soon as the merchant was gone Wali Dad made up his mind that
there was only one honourable way out of the shame and distress
that he had created by his foolishness, and that was--to kill
himself. So, without stopping to ask any one's advice, he went
off in the middle of the night to a place where the river wound
along at the base of steep rocky cliffs of great height, and
determined to throw himself down and put an end to his life.
When he got to the place he drew back a few paces, took a little
run, and at the very edge of that dreadful black gulf he stopped
short! He COULD not do it!
'Why do you weep, old man?' said one, in a voice as clear and
musical as that of the bulbul.
'I came here to die,' said Wali Dad. And as they questioned him,
he confessed all his story.
Then the first stepped forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder,
and Wali Dad began to feel that something strange--what, he did
not know--was happening to him. His old cotton rags of clothes
were changed to beautiful linen and embroidered cloth; on his
hard, bare feet were warm, soft shoes, and on his head a great
jewelled turban. Round his neck there lay a heavy golden chain,
and the little old bent sickle, which he cut grass with, and
which hung in his waistband, had turned into a gorgeous scimetar,
whose ivory hilt gleamed in the pale light like snow in
moonlight. As he stood wondering, like a man in a dream, the
other peri waved her hand and bade him turn and see; and, lo!
before him a noble gateway stood open. And up an avenue of giant
place trees the peris led him, dumb with amazement. At the end
of the avenue, on the very spot where his hut had stood, a
gorgeous palace appeared, ablaze with myriads of lights. Its
great porticoes and verandahs were occupied by hurrying servants,
and guards paced to and fro and saluted him respectfully as he
drew near, along mossy walks and through sweeping grassy lawns
where fountains were playing and flowers scented the air. Wali
Dad stood stunned and helpless.
'Fear not,' said one of the peris; 'go to your house, and learn
that God rewards the simple-hearted.'
With these words they both disappeared and left him. He walked
on, thinking still that he must be dreaming. Very soon he
retired to rest in a splendid room, far grander than anything he
had ever dreamed of.
When morning dawned he woke, and found that the palace, and
himself, and his servants were all real, and that he was not
dreaming after all!
Then Wali Dad told the merchant all that had happened. By his
advice he sent an invitation to the king and princess of Khaistan
to come and be his guests, together with all their retinue and
servants, down to the very humblest in the camp.
For three nights and days a great feast was held in honour of the
royal guests. Every evening the king and his nobles were served
on golden plates and from golden cups; and the smaller people on
silver plates and from silver cups; and each evening each guest
was requested to keep the places and cups that they had used as a
remembrance of the occasion. Never had anything so splendid been
seen. Besides the great dinners, there were sports and hunting,
and dances, and amusements of all sorts.
On the fourth day the king of Khaistan took his host aside, and
asked him whether it was true, as he had suspected, that he
wished to marry his daughter. But Wali Dad, after thanking him
very much for the compliment, said that he had never dreamed of
so great an honour, and that he was far too old and ugly for so
fair a lady; but he begged the king to stay with him until he
could send for the Prince of Nekabad, who was a most excellent,
brave, and honourable young man, and would surely be delighted to
try to win the hand of the beautiful princess.
To this the king agreed, and Wali Dad sent the merchant to
Nekabad, with a number of attendants, and with such handsome
presents that the prince came at once, fell head over ears in
love with the princess, and married her at Wali Dad's palace
amidst a fresh outburst of rejoicings.
And now the King of Khaistan and the Prince and Princess of
Nekabad, each went back to their own country; and Wali Dad lived
to a good old age, befriending all who were in trouble and
preserving, in his prosperity, the simple-hearted and generous
nature that he had when he was only Wali Dad Gunjay, the grass
cutter.
Once upon a time there was a country where the rivers were
larger, and the forests deeper, than anywhere else. Hardly any
men came there, and the wild creatures had it all to themselves,
and used to play all sorts of strange games with each other. The
great trees, chained one to the other by thick flowering plants
with bright scarlet or yellow blossoms, were famous hiding-places
for the monkeys, who could wait unseen, till a puma or an
elephant passed by, and then jump on their backs and go for a
ride, swinging themselves up by the creepers when they had had
enough. Near the rivers huge tortoises were to be found, and
though to our eyes a tortoise seems a dull, slow thing, it is
wonderful to think how clever they were, and how often they
outwitted many of their livelier friends.
'Very good,' replied the whale; and he took out one of his bones
and passed it to the tortoise.
The tortoise picked up the end of the bone in his mouth and went
back to the elephant. 'I will fasten this to your leg,' said he,
'in the same way as it is fastened to mine, and we must both pull
as hard as we can. We shall soon see which is the stronger.' So
he wound it carefully round the elephant's leg, and tied it in a
firm knot. 'Now!' cried he, plunging into a thick bush behind
him.
The whale tugged at one end, and the elephant tugged at the
other, and neither had any idea that he had not the tortoise for
his foe. When the whale pulled hardest the elephant was dragged
into the water; and when the elephant pulled the hardest the
whale was hauled on to the land. They were very evenly matched,
and the battle was a hard one.
At last they were quite tired, and the tortoise, who was
watching, saw that they could play no more. So he crept from his
hiding-place, and dipping himself in the river, he went to the
elephant and said: 'I see that you really are stronger than I
thought. Suppose we give it up for to-day?' Then he dried
himself on some moss and went to the whale and said: 'I see that
you really are stronger than I thought. Suppose we give it up
for to-day?'
The two adversaries were only too glad to be allowed to rest, and
believed to the end of their days that, after all, the tortoise
was stronger than either of them.
A day or two later the young tortoise was taking a stroll, when
he met a fox, and stopped to speak to him. 'Let us try,' said he
in a careless manner, 'which of us can lie buried in the ground
during seven years.'
'It is all the same to me,' replied the tortoise; 'if you come
round this way to-morrow you will see that I have fulfilled my
part of the bargain.'
'Alas! the fruit is not ripe enough yet for you to eat,' answered
the fox, who hoped that the tortoise would die of hunger long
before the seven years were over.
'Oh dear, oh dear! I am so hungry!' cried the tortoise.
'I am sure you must be; but it will be all right to-morrow,' said
the fox, trotting off, not knowing that the oranges dropped down
the hollow trunk, straight into the tortoise's hole, and that he
had as many as he could possibly eat.
So the seven years went by; and when the tortoise came out of his
hole he was as fat as ever.
Now it was the fox's turn, and he chose his hole, and the
tortoise heaped the earth round, promising to return every day or
two with a nice young bird for his dinner. 'Well, how are you
getting on?' he would ask cheerfully when he paid his visits.
'Oh, all right; only I wish you had brought a bird with you,'
answered the fox.
'I have been so unlucky, I have never been able to catch one,'
replied the tortoise. 'However, I shall be more fortunate to-
morrow, I am sure.'
But not many to-morrows after, when the tortoise arrived with his
usual question: 'Well, how are you getting on?' he received no
answer, for the fox was lying in his hole quite still, dead of
hunger.
By this time the tortoise was grown up, and was looked up to
throughout the forest as a person to be feared for his strength
and wisdom. But he was not considered a very swift runner, until
an adventure with a deer added to his fame.
One day, when he was basking in the sun, a stag passed by, and
stopped for a little conversation. 'Would you care to see which
of us can run fastest?' asked the tortoise, after some talk. The
stag thought the question so silly that he only shrugged his
shoulders. 'Of course, the victor would have the right to kill
the other,' went on the tortoise. 'Oh, on that condition I
agree,' answered the deer; 'but I am afraid you are a dead man.'
The first thing the tortoise did was to call his brothers and his
cousins together, and he posted them carefully under ferns all
along the line of the great clearing, making a sort of ladder
which stretched for many miles. This done to his satisfaction,
he went back to the starting place.
The stag was quite punctual, and as soon as the sun's rays struck
the trunk of the tree the stag started off, and was soon far out
of the sight of the tortoise. Every now and then he would turn
his head as he ran, and call out: 'How are you getting on?' and
the tortoise who happened to be nearest at that moment would
answer: 'All right, I am close up to you.'
Full of astonishment, the stag would redouble his efforts, but it
was no use. Each time he asked: 'Are you there?' the answer
would come: 'Yes, of course, where else should I be?' And the
stag ran, and ran, and ran, till he could run no more, and
dropped down dead on the grass.
But the tortoise was not the only creature of whose tricks
stories were told in the forest. There was a famous monkey who
was just as clever and more mischievous, because he was so much
quicker on his feet and with his hands. It was quite impossible
to catch him and give him the thrashing he so often deserved, for
he just swung himself up into a tree and laughed at the angry
victim who was sitting below. Sometimes, however, the
inhabitants of the forest were so foolish as to provoke him, and
then they got the worst of it. This was what happened to the
barber, whom the monkey visited one morning, saying that he
wished to be shaved. The barber bowed politely to his customer,
and begging him to be seated, tied a large cloth round his neck,
and rubbed his chin with soap; but instead of cutting off his
beard, the barber made a snip at the end of his tail. It was
only a very little bit and the monkey started up more in rage
than in pain. 'Give me back the end of my tail,' he roared, 'or
I will take one of your razors.' The barber refused to give back
the missing piece, so the monkey caught up a razor from the table
and ran away with it, and no one in the forest could be shaved
for days, as there was not another to be got for miles and miles.
'That must be hard work,' said the monkey, stopping to look; 'try
my knife--you will get on quicker.' And he handed her the razor
as he spoke. A few days later he came back and rapped at the
door of the hut. 'I have called for my razor,' he said, when the
woman appeared.
'That fish? But I have eaten it!' exclaimed the baker in dismay.
'I don't WANT another barrel, I want THAT one,' answered the
monkey sternly. And as the woman stood wringing her hands, he
caught up the little girl that he thought the prettiest and took
her to his home in the palm tree.
She never went back to the hut, but on the whole she was not much
to be pitied, for monkeys are nearly as good as children to play
with, and they taught her how to swing, and to climb, and to fly
from tree to tree, and everything else they knew, which was a
great deal.
Now the monkey's tiresome tricks had made him many enemies in the
forest, but no one hated him so much as the puma. The cause of
their quarrel was known only to themselves, but everybody was
aware of the fact, and took care to be out of the way when there
was any chance of these two meeting. Often and often the puma
had laid traps for the monkey, which he felt sure his foe could
not escape; and the monkey would pretend that he saw nothing, and
rejoice the hidden puma's heart by seeming to walk straight into
the snare, when, lo! a loud laugh would be heard, and the
monkey's grinning face would peer out of a mass of creepers and
disappear before his foe could reach him.
This state of things had gone on for quite a long while, when at
last there came a season such as the oldest parrot in the forest
could never remember. Instead of two or three hundred inches of
rain falling, which they were all accustomed to, month after
month passed without a cloud, and the rivers and springs dried
up, till there was only one small pool left for everyone to drink
from. There was not an animal for miles round that did not
grieve over this shocking condition of affairs, not one at least
except the puma. His only thought for years had been how to get
the monkey into his power, and this time he imagined his chance
had really arrived. He would hide himself in a thicket, and when
the monkey came down to drink--and come he must--the puma would
spring out and seize him. Yes, on this occasion there could be
no escape!
And no more there would have been if the puma had had greater
patience; but in his excitement he moved a little too soon. The
monkey, who was stooping to drink, heard a rustling, and turning
caught the gleam of two yellow, murderous eyes. With a mighty
spring he grasped a creeper which was hanging above him, and
landed himself on the branch of a tree; feeling the breath of the
puma on his feet as the animal bounded from is cover. Never had
the monkey been so near death, and it was some time before he
recovered enough courage to venture on the ground again.
He waited till the man was just underneath the tree, then he hung
from a bough, and caught the gourd while the man looked up
wondering, for he was no tree-climber. Then the monkey rubbed
the honey all over him, and a quantity of leaves from a creeper
that was hanging close by; he stuck them all close together into
the honey, so that he looked like a walking bush. This finished,
he ran to the pool to see the result, and, quite pleased with
himself, set out in search of adventures.
Soon the report went through the forest that a new animal had
appeared from no one knew where, and that when somebody had asked
his name, the strange creature had answered that it was Jack-in-
the-Green. Thanks to this, the monkey was allowed to drink at
the pool as often as he liked, for neither beast nor bird had the
faintest notion who he was. And if they made any inquiries the
only answer they got was that the water of which he had drunk
deeply had turned his hair into leaves, so that they all knew
what would happen in case they became too greedy.
By-and-by the great rains began again. The rivers and streams
filled up, and there was no need for him to go back to the pool,
near the home of his enemy, the puma, as there was a large number
of places for him to choose from. So one night, when everything
was still and silent, and even the chattering parrots were asleep
on one leg, the monkey stole down softly from his perch, and
washed off the honey and the leaves, and came out from his bath
in his own proper skin. On his way to breakfast he met a rabbit,
and stopped for a little talk.
The rabbit, who was young and without experience, was delighted
with this idea, and they both set out on their various ways.
The monkey quietly climbed up the nearest tree, and ate fruit
most of the day, but the rabbit tired himself to death poking his
nose into every heap of dried leaves he saw, hoping to find a
serpent among them. Luckily for himself the serpents were all
away for the afternoon, at a meeting of their own, for there is
nothing a serpent likes so well for dinner as a nice plump
rabbit. But, as it was, the dried leaves were all empty, and the
rabbit at last fell asleep where he was. Then the monkey, who
had been watching him, fell down and pulled his ears, to the rage
of the rabbit, who vowed vengeance.
It was not easy to catch the monkey off his guard, and the rabbit
waited long before an opportunity arrived. But one day Jack-in-
the-Green was sitting on a stone, wondering what he should do
next, when the rabbit crept softly behind him, and gave his tail
a sharp pull. The monkey gave a shriek of pain, and darted up
into a tree, but when he saw that it was only the rabbit who had
dared to insult him so, he chattered so fast in his anger, and
looked so fierce, that the rabbit fled into the nearest hole, and
stayed there for several days, trembling with fright.
Soon after this adventure the monkey went away into another part
of the country, right on the outskirts of the forest, where there
was a beautiful garden full of oranges hanging ripe from the
trees. This garden was a favourite place for birds of all kinds,
each hoping to secure an orange for dinner, and in order to
frighten the birds away and keep a little fruit for himself, the
master had fastened a waxen figure on one of the boughs.
Now the monkey was as fond of oranges as any of the birds, and
when he saw a man standing in the tree where the largest and
sweetest oranges grew, he spoke to him at once. 'You man,' he
said rudely, 'throw me down that big orange up there, or I will
throw a stone at you.' The wax figure took no notice of this
request, so the monkey, who was easily made angry, picked up a
stone, and flung it with all his force. But instead of falling
to the ground again, the stone stuck to the soft wax.
At this moment a breeze shook the tree, and the orange on which
the monkey had set his heart dropped from the bough. He picked
it up and ate it every bit, including the rind, and it was so
good he thought he should like another. So he called again to
the wax figure to throw him an orange, and as the figure did not
move, he hurled another stone, which stuck to the wax as the
first had done. Seeing that the man was quite indifferent to
stones, the monkey grew more angry still, and climbing the tree
hastily, gave the figure a violent kick. But like the two stones
his leg remained stuck to the wax, and he was held fast. 'Let me
go at once, or I will give you another kick,' he cried, suiting
the action to the word, and this time also his foot remained in
the grasp of the man. Not knowing what he did, the monkey hit
out, first with one hand and then with the other, and when he
found that he was literally bound hand and foot, he became so mad
with anger and terror that in his struggles he fell to the
ground, dragging the figure after him. This freed his hands and
feet, but besides the shock of the fall, they had tumbled into a
bed of thorns, and he limped away broken and bruised, and
groaning loudly; for when monkeys ARE hurt, they take pains that
everybody shall know it.
It was a long time before Jack was well enough to go about again;
but when he did, he had an encounter with his old enemy the puma.
And this was how it came about.
One day the puma invited his friend the stag to go with him and
see a comrade, who was famous for the good milk he got from his
cows. The stag loved milk, and gladly accepted the invitation,
and when the sun began to get a little low the two started on
their walk. On the way they arrived on the banks of a river, and
as there were no bridges in those days it was necessary to swim
across it. The stag was not fond of swimming, and began to say
that he was tired, and thought that after all it was not worth
going so far to get milk, and that he would return home. But the
puma easily saw through these excuses, and laughed at him.
'The river is not deep at all,' he said; 'why, you will never be
off your feet. Come, pluck up your courage and follow me.'
The stag was afraid of the river; still, he was much more afraid
of being laughed at, and he plunged in after the puma; but in an
instant the current had swept him away, and if it had not borne
him by accident to a shallow place on the opposite side, where he
managed to scramble up the bank, he would certainly have been
drowned. As it was, he scrambled out, shaking with terror, and
found the puma waiting for him. 'You had a narrow escape that
time,' said the puma.
After resting for a few minutes, to let the stag recover from his
fright, they went on their way till they came to a grove of
bananas.
'They look very good,' observed the puma with a longing glance,
'and I am sure you must be hungry, friend stag? Suppose you were
to climb the tree and get some. You shall eat the green ones,
they are the best and sweetest; and you can throw the yellow ones
down to me. I dare say they will do quite well!' The stag did as
he was bid, though, not being used to climbing, it gave him a
deal of trouble and sore knees, and besides, his horns were
continually getting entangled in the creepers. What was worse,
when once he had tasted the bananas, he found them not at all to
his liking, so he threw them all down, green and yellow alike,
and let the puma take his choice. And what a dinner he made!
When he had QUITE done, they set forth once more.
The path lay through a field of maize, where several men were
working. As they came up to them, the puma whispered: 'Go on in
front, friend stag, and just say "Bad luck to all workers!"' The
stag obeyed, but the men were hot and tired, and did not think
this a good joke. So they set their dogs at him, and he was
obliged to run away as fast as he could.
At last they reached their journey's end, but by this time it was
late, and the puma's comrade was ready for bed, so they slung
their hammocks in convenient places, and went to sleep. But in
the middle of the night the puma rose softly and stole out of the
door to the sheep-fold, where he killed and ate the fattest sheep
he could find, and taking a bowl full of its blood, he sprinkled
the sleeping stag with it. This done, he returned to bed.
In the morning the shepherd went as usual to let the sheep out of
the fold, and found one of them missing. He thought directly of
the puma, and ran to accuse him of having eaten the sheep. 'I,
my good man? What had put it into your head to think of such a
thing? Have I got any blood about me? If anyone has eaten a
sheep it must be my friend the stag.' Then the shepherd went to
examine the sleeping stag, and of course he saw the blood. 'Ah!
I will teach you how to steal!' cried he, and he hit the stag
such a blow on his skull that he died in a moment. The noise
awakened the comrade above, and he came downstairs. The puma
greeted him with joy, and begged he might have some of the famous
milk as soon as possible, for he was very thirsty. A large
bucket was set before the puma directly. He drank it to the last
drop, and then took leave.
On his way home he met the monkey. 'Are you fond of milk?' asked
he. 'I know a place where you get it very nice. I will show you
it if you like.' The monkey knew that the puma was not so good-
natured for nothing, but he felt quite able to take care of
himself, so he said he should have much pleasure in accompanying
his friend.
They soon reached the same river, and, as before, the puma
remarked: 'Friend monkey, you will find it very shallow; there is
no cause for fear. Jump in and I will follow.'
'Do you think you have the stag to deal with?' asked the monkey,
laughing. 'I should prefer to follow; if not I shall go no
further. The puma understood that it was useless trying to make
the monkey do as he wished, so he chose a shallow place and began
to swim across. The monkey waited till the puma had got to the
middle, then he gave a great spring and jumped on his back,
knowing quite well that the puma would be afraid to shake him
off, lest he should be swept away into deep water. So in this
manner they reached the bank.
The banana grove was not far distant, and here the puma thought
he would pay the monkey out for forcing him to carry him over the
river. 'Friend monkey, look what fine bananas,' cried he. 'You
are fond of climbing; suppose you run up and throw me down a few.
You can eat the green ones, which are the nicest, and I will be
content with the yellow.'
'Very well,' answered the monkey, swinging himself up; but he ate
all the yellow ones himself, and only threw down the green ones
that were left. The puma was furious and cried out: 'I will
punch your head for that.' But the monkey only answered: 'If you
are gong to talk such nonsense I won't walk with you.' And the
puma was silent.
In a few minutes more they arrived at the field were the men were
reaping the maize, and the puma remarked as he had done before:
'Friend monkey, if you wish to please these men, just say as you
go by: "Bad luck to all workers."
Further along the path they saw the shining snake lying on the
moss. 'What a lovely necklace for your daughter,' exclaimed the
puma. 'Pick it up and take it with you.'
'You are very kind, but I will leave it for you,' answered the
monkey, and nothing more was said about the snake.
Not long after this they reached the comrade's house, and found
him just ready to go to bed. So, without stopping to talk, the
guests slung their hammocks, the monkey taking care to place his
so high that no one could get at him. Besides, he thought it
would be more prudent not to fall asleep, so he only lay still
and snored loudly. When it was quite dark and no sound was to be
heard, the puma crept out to the sheep-fold, killed the sheep,
and carried back a bowl full of its blood with which to sprinkle
the monkey. But the monkey, who had been watching out of the
corner of his eye, waited until the puma drew near, and with a
violent kick upset the bowl all over the puma himself.
When the puma saw what had happened, he turned in a great hurry
to leave the house, but before he could do so, he saw the
shepherd coming, and hastily lay down again.
'This is the second time I have lost a sheep,' the man said to
the monkey; 'it will be the worse for the thief when I catch him,
I can tell you.' The monkey did not answer, but silently pointed
to the puma who was pretending to be asleep. The shepherd
stooped and saw the blood, and cried out: 'Ah! so it is you, is
it? then take that!' and with his stick he gave the puma such a
blow on the head that he died then and there.
Then the monkey got up and went to the dairy, and drank all the
milk he could find. Afterwards he returned home and married, and
that is the last we heard of him.
Once upon a time there lived an old cobbler who worked hard at
his trade from morning till night, and scarcely gave himself a
moment to eat. But, industrious as he was, he could hardly buy
bread and cheese for himself and his wife, and they grew thinner
and thinner daily.
For a long while whey pretended to each other that they had no
appetite, and that a few blackberries from the hedges were a
great deal nicer than a good strong bowl of soup. But at length
there came a day when the cobbler could bear it no longer, and he
threw away his last, and borrowing a rod from a neighbour he went
out to fish.
Now the cobbler was as patient about fishing as he had been about
cobbling. From dawn to dark he stood on the banks of the little
stream, without hooking anything better than an eel, or a few old
shoes, that even he, clever though he was, felt were not worth
mending. At length his patience began to give way, and as he
undressed one night he said to himself: 'Well, I will give it one
more chance; and if I don't catch a fish to-morrow, I will go and
hang myself.'
He had not cast his line for ten minutes the next morning before
he drew from the river the most beautiful fish he had ever seen
in his life. But he nearly fell into the water from surprise,
when the fish began to speak to him, in a small, squeaky voice:
'Take me back to your hut and cook me; then cut me up, and
sprinkle me over with pepper and salt. Give two of the pieces to
your wife, and bury two more in the garden.'
The cobbler did not know what to make of these strange words; but
he was wiser than many people, and when he did not understand, he
thought it was well to obey. His children wanted to eat all the
fish themselves, and begged their father to tell them what to do
with the pieces he had put aside; but the cobbler only laughed,
and told them it was no business of theirs. And when they were
safe in bed he stole out and buried the two pieces in the garden.
Years passed away, and the babies were almost men. They were
tired of living quietly at home, being mistaken for each other by
everybody they saw, and determined to set off in different
directions, to seek adventures.
So, one fine morning, the two brothers left the hut, and walked
together to the place where the great road divided. There they
embraced and parted, promising that if anything remarkable had
happened to either, he would return to the cross roads and wait
till his brother came.
The youth who took the path that ran eastwards arrived presently
at a large city, where he found everybody standing at the doors,
wringing their hands and weeping bitterly.
'What is the matter?' asked he, pausing and looking round. And a
man replied, in a faltering voice, that each year a beautiful
girl was chosen by lot to be offered up to a dreadful fiery
dragon, who had a mother even worse than himself, and this year
the lot had fallen on their peerless princess.
'But where IS the princess?' said the young man once more, and
again the man answered him: 'She is standing under a tree, a mile
away, waiting for the dragon.'
This time the Knight of the Fish did not stop to hear more, but
ran off as fast as he could, and found the princess bathed in
tears, and trembling from head to foot.
She turned as she heard the sound of his sword, and removed her
handkerchief from his eyes.
'Fly,' she cried; 'fly while you have yet time, before that
monster sees you.'
She said it, and she mean it; yet, when he had turned his back,
she felt more forsaken than before. But in reality it was not
more than a few minutes before he came back, galloping furiously
on a horse he had borrowed, and carrying a huge mirror across its
neck.
'The moment the dragon comes near you, you must tear off the
veil,' cried he; 'and be sure you hide behind the mirror. Have
no fear; I shall be at hand.'
He and his horse had scarcely found shelter amongst some rocks,
when the flap of the dragon's wings could be plainly heard. He
tossed his head with delight at the sight of her, and approached
slowly to the place where she stood, a little in front of the
mirror. Then, still looking the monster steadily in the face,
she passed one hand behind her back and snatched off the veil,
stepping swiftly behind the tree as she did so.
The princess had not known, when she obeyed the orders of the
Knight of the Fish, what she expected to happen. Would the
dragon with snaky locks be turned to stone, she wondered, like
the dragon in an old story her nurse had told her; or would some
fiery spark dart from the heart of the mirror, and strike him
dead? Neither of these things occurred, but, instead, the dragon
stopped short with surprise and rage when he saw a monster before
him as big and strong as himself. He shook his mane with rage
and fury; the enemy in front did exactly the same. He lashed his
tail, and rolled his red eyes, and the dragon opposite was no
whit behind him. Opening his mouth to its very widest, he gave
an awful roar; but the other dragon only roared back. This was
too much, and with another roar which made the princess shake in
her shoes, he flung himself upon his foe. In an instant the
mirror lay at his feet broken into a thousand pieces, but as
every piece reflected part of himself, the dragon thought that he
too had been smashed into atoms.
It was the moment for which the Knight of the Fish had watched
and waited, and before the dragon could find out that he was not
hurt at all, the young man's lance was down his throat, and he
was rolling, dead, on the grass.
Oh! what shouts of joy rang through the great city, when the
youth came riding back with the princess sitting behind him, and
dragging the horrible monster by a cord. Everybody cried out
that the king must give the victor the hand of the princess; and
so he did, and no one had ever seen such balls and feasts and
sports before. And when they were all over the young couple went
to the palace prepared for them, which was so large that it was
three miles round.
The first wet day after their marriage the bridegroom begged the
bride to show him all the rooms in the palace, and it was so big
and took so long that the sun was shining brightly again before
they stepped on to the roof to see the view.
'What castle is that out there,' asked the knight; 'it seems to
be made of black marble?'
It needed a brave man to approach it, for it made your hair stand
on end merely to look at it; it was as dark as the night of a
storm, and as silent as the grave. But the Knight of the Fish
knew no fear, and had never turned his back on an enemy; so he
drew out his horn, and blew a blast.
The sound awoke all the sleeping echoes in the castle, and was
repeated now loudly, now softly; now near, and now far. But
nobody stirred for all that.
'Is there anyone inside?' cried the young man in his loudest
voice; 'anyone who will give a knight hospitality? Neither
governor, nor squire, not even a page?'
'Not even a page!' answered the echoes. But the young man did
not heed them, and only struck a furious blow at the gate.
Then a small grating opened, and there appeared the tip of a huge
nose, which belonged to the ugliest old woman that ever was seen.
Between the fierce sun and his anger at being kept waiting, the
Knight of the Fish had grown so hot that he lifted his visor, and
when the old woman saw how handsome he was, she began fumbling
with the lock of the gate.
'Come in, come in,' said she, 'so fine a gentleman will do us no
harm.'
'Harm!' repeated the echoes, but again the young man paid no
heed.
'I marry YOU? why you must be a hundred at least!' cried he.
'You are mad! All I desire is to inspect the castle and then go.'
As he spoke he heard the voices give a mocking laugh; but the old
woman took no notice, and only bade the knight follow her.
Old though she was, it seemed impossible to tire her. There was
no room, however small, she did not lead him into, and each room
was full of curious things he had never seen before.
'I have kept my most precious treasure till the last,' said the
old woman; 'but let me go first, for the stairs are steep, and
you might easily break your leg.' So on she went, now and then
calling back to the young man in the darkness. But he did not
know that she had slipped aside into a recess, till suddenly he
put his foot on a trap door which gave way under him, and he fell
down, down, as many good knights had done before him, and his
voice joined the echoes of theirs.
'So you would not marry me!' chuckled the old witch. 'Ha! ha!
Ha! ha!'
Meanwhile his brother had wandered far and wide, and at last he
wandered back to the same great city where the other young knight
had met with so many adventures. He noticed, with amazement,
that as he walked through the streets the guards drew themselves
up in line, and saluted him, and the drummers played the royal
march; but he was still more bewildered when several servants in
livery ran up to him and told him that the princess was sure
something terrible had befallen him, and had made herself ill
with weeping. At last it occurred to him that once more he had
been taken for his brother. 'I had better say nothing,' thought
he; 'perhaps I shall be able to help him after all.'
'I must,' was all he answered. And the princess, who was a wise
woman, only said: 'Well, go to bed now, for I am sure you must be
very tired.'
But the knight shook his head. 'I have sworn never to lie in a
bed as long as my work in the castle remains standing.' And the
princess again sighed, and was silent.
Early next day the young man started for the castle, feeling sure
that some terrible thing must have happened to his brother.
At the blast of his horn the long nose of the old woman appeared
at the grating, but the moment she caught sight of his face, she
nearly fainted from fright, as she thought it was the ghost of
the youth whose bones were lying in the dungeon of the castle.
'Lady of all the ages,' cried the new comer, 'did you not give
hospitality to a young knight but a short time ago?'
'Ill-treated him!' answered the voices. The woman did not stop
to hear more; she turned to fly; but the knight's sword entered
her body.
'I will tell you,' said she; 'but as I feel that I am going to
die I shall keep that piece of news to myself, till you have
brought me to life again.'
The young man laughed scornfully. 'How do you propose that I
should work that miracle?'
'Oh, it is quite easy. Go into the garden and gather the flowers
of the everlasting plant and some of dragon's blood. Crush them
together and boil them in a large tub of water, and then put me
into it.'
The knight did as the old witch bade him, and, sure enough, she
came out quite whole, but uglier than ever. She then told the
young man what had become of his brother, and he went down into
the dungeon, and brought up his body and the bodies of the other
victims who lay there, and when they were all washed in the magic
water their strength was restored to them.
As to the old witch, in the end she died of rage at seeing her
prey escape her; and at the moment she drew her last breath the
castle of Albatroz fell into ruins with a great noise.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Brown Fairy Book, by Andrew Lang